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About Google Book Search Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web at |http: //books .google .com/I [ THE MINERS' SONS: MAETIN LUTHER XSD HENRY MARTYN. BY THE REV. CHARLES D. BELL, M.A. SAMPSON LOW AND SON, 47, LUDGATE HILL. 1853. MARTIN LUTHER. Thb period of the world to which the name of Martin Lather carriea back our thoughts is one of the most stirring and thriUing interest. It is rendered con- spicuous on the historic page by some of those grand events which have exercised the greatest influence on the progress of the human race, and whose effects will continue to be felt till time «ha11 be no^more. I may remind you of the/cliscqyetf by the Spaniards of the rich and fertile islanSs of We Ht^est Indies ; of the passage to the East laid open foi^ffe first time by the Portuguese ; of the commer(!iifi*^jij)i^ which was begin- ning to unite the most distant proTinces of the globe in the ties of a strong and mutual interest. It was also an age when a passion for literature was spreading, and to its refinements the discovery of that art which has been the source of so many blessings to mankind, — the art of printing^*— had imparted a ftesh impulse and vigour. Now Ariosto sai^ in the sweet Tuscan lan- guage, and Guicciardini wrote history in the same silver tongue. Now, also, thoughts of beauty and genius were painted on the canvas, or wrought into the marble; B 'Z MARTIN LUTHER. and in the cartoons of Raphael, and the creations of Michael Angelo, is seen a degree of perfection nnap- proached by any sncceeding age. And to crown all, the dark midnight which had brooded for centnriee over the human mind and the linnian heart, was dis- persed at once and for ever by the noonday light and glory of the Reformation. The generation which pre- ceded this era was stained by the worst of crimes ; all ranks and orders, from the peasant in his cottage, to the prince on his throne ; from the priest in his cloister to the Pope in his palace, were familiar with the cor- ruption of the times. Not that I would be understood as saying, that even in the bosom of a church corrupt as was the Romish, there were no men of God animated by a spirit of righteousness^ and who mourned with a holy lamentation oyer the vice and iniquity that so extensively prevailed. In the very darkest annals of a world which from the first introduction of sin lias been " lying in the wicked one," there have ever been noble exceptions to the surrounding ungodliness ; men who stood forth in the moral firmament as bright particular stars, shedding the light of truth on an otherwise unbroken night. But these were the exceptions. Even those appointed to minister at the Church's altars were disgraced by an immorality as gross as it was unblushing ; infidelity of creed was general ; purity of life was uncommon. The priests chose for their companions men the most dis- solute ; their usual haunt was the tavern ; the dice box was oftener in their hands than the prayer-book ; and their nightly orgies were wound up with scenes of violence and words of blasphemy. The mysteries of Mr mofltlioly fidth were not imfreqneutlj spoken of as sjest; sKidthe mass itself, in wbieh tbej professed to offer up t sacrifiee for tiia Ihingand ihe dead, was often tamed into ridionle aftor its solemn celebratioo. Among the higher orden of the ckrgy ike oorraption was not less great; they fonnd, many of iHaem^ a more con- genisl home amid the taflaalt and Mcentiowsoess of the eamp, than amid the |>eaoefhl shadca of their several abbeys, or the Tebgbns serrices of tfaair appointed chimties. The prc4eots of ambition, "tiie -graspings of afarice, and the policies of istiigne, presented greater stttaetiona than the performance of those sacred duties eenneeted with the worship of God^ and the salvation of so«k. And if we look higher, and glance at the Pontifteai Court itself, we shall find that, it was blackened snd disgraced by tieentmsaessand tveaaon^ and peUuted snd pro&ned by incest and murder, ^e history of that age is one of the rery darkest in the annals of the boman kind, and is throws into a deeper shade when we remember that Rome aseerted. nmnecsal dominion erer the Chnstian world, and claimed te be considered the guardian of the Catholic faith. Bat we torn away omr thooghts from the crimes and intrigoes, the scoffing and ihe eeoni, the atheism and infidelity which hold high retel thronghoot the wide predncts of the Eomisii ohoMli, and we transport our- selves to a humbler and a purer scene. In the village of Mora, near the l^uringian forests, has dwelt for many centuries an indent and numerous fiunOy of the name of Luther. One of the younger members of this ftnnily, by name John, who has em- ployment in the mines of the neighbpuiliood, has taken 4 MARTIN LUTHER. a journey to Eitleben, to attend the annual fsir. His wife accompanies him, and on the night of their arrival she beoomeB the mother of a son : it ia the iOth of Novemher, 1483, the eve of St. Martinis day, and there- fore the parenta give him the name of Martin. It is a scene for a painter — ^that quiet home ; the yoang mother and her first-bom babe ; the holy feel- ings which express the calm yet deep rapture of their emotions through the moist and glistening eye. It is a subject for a poet — that boy of lowly origin, whose birth is unknown and uncared for beyond the humble fkmily circle, but who is yet to win a world-wide fame, and be one of the greatest benefactors of our race. As the mother bends over his infant cradle, she little thinks of the influence he is to wield over the destinies of his fellows. She knows not, as she fondles him in her bosom, or lays him lovingly on her li^, that in the heart of that child lies the germ of future deeds as noble in their accomplishment, and as grand in their results, as ever have been achieved in the history of the world. That slender arm, that droops so listlessly on her knee, is yet to be uplifted against the authority of the Pon- tificate, — ^that placid eye, slumbering so calmly, is yet to be lighted with the fires of a holy indignation agtdnat the unrighteous power which keeps the earth in thral- dom ; and that voice, so shrill and feeble in its cries, is to awaken the nations from the deep apathy into which they had fallen, and to send down such a startling echo to future generations, that men, standing as we do now in the middle of the 19th century, shall thrill at the name of Martin Luther, and assemble together to. hear of his never-dying fame. MABTIN LUTHER. 6 The early life of the Reformer was one of great hardahip and aererity. Speaking of his parenta, he saya, '* they were originally in great poverty ; my bther was a poor miner ; my mother has borne her fire-wood on her back." When at the age of 14 he was sent to school at Magdebui^, we read that hia privations were so great, that in order to obtain the necessary means of subsistence he was obliged some- times to beg alms, and sometimes to sing carols from door to door. He was much indebted to the character and education of his parenta for that prudent training which developed all the resources of a naturally maa- eoline mind, and fitted him for the glorious mission to which he was appointed of Gk)d. His father was a man of intelligence and piety ; and we are told that he often prayed loudly and fervently at the bedside of his child, " that the Lord God would make him partaker of His grace.** His mother was possessed of a devout and reverent spirit, and waa adorned with those virtues and grscea which become the pure and noble-minded woman. Yet, notwithatanding all the worth of his parents, they appear to have employed too much harshness and seve- rity in the education of their son. However, all things were working together for his good. Luther himself acknowledged in after-life, that he should never have been the man he waa, had he not passed through the stem and rugged discipline of his early years. It is in the school of suffering that God not unfre- quently educates the mind and heart of the man who ia to achieve in after-life those magnificent deeds that are to advance the cause of humanity, and bring down UcMinga upon the world. Trial and adversity, acting D MARTIN LUTHBR* Upon A soul born to be holj, greftt^ And good» are m$JAen well fitted to teaeh the leteon of »elf-comnuuid and eelf-Gontrol ; to inBtmct ae to how the domimon over the baser propenaitiea and paaaiona can be aequured; and how the lower nature can be made to bow and to obey. Not HBoally in the soft lap of prosperity ia the man who is to master men, and to moold the destinies of the World, nnrtnred and nnrsed ; no^ he who is to be the doer of high deeds, who is to give the oolour of his individoal mind, not only to hia own age, but to all succeeding times, is oftener rocked in the rude cradle of adversity, and tanght, by years of self-denial and patient tml, to win the asoendancy» not only over him* self, but over others. It was to the trials of his youth that Luthef traced up the streams of his success j thei^fore was he not ashamed to own that the voice whose thunder shook the throne of the Pontiff was once heard plaintively begging for a morsel of bread in the streets of an obscure town i and he had a pleasure in the confession, not only on this Account^ but also because he felt that the memory of his original condition, contrasted with his after-fame, redounded to the glory of that Ond who ** chooses the foolish things of the world to confound the wise, and the weak thinga of the world to confound the things that are mighty } yea, and base things of the world, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are.'* When Luther was 18, his father sent him to the University of Erfurth, where he applied himself dili- gently to scholastic philosophy, and the study of the Latin classics. But while attending to the ezpanaion tif the intaUeet, he neglected not the cultivation of the HARTfN liVTBSft. 7 jMtft. His chief pleuore was fomud in raising his thoughts to the noblest of all contemplations — to God, and the sonl, and eternity. His Either had intended him for the profession of the law ; hut a circumstaDce now occurred which determined the son to abjure the woiid and take monastie vows. He is widldng in the fields one day with Alexius, a yoong and intimate friend, when he and his companion are surprised by a terrific storm. The blue lightning stnsras upon the troubled air ; crash after crash of the loud thunder startles the heavens, and the frequent bolt lalls with a fearful explosion. It seems as if the judgment knell of creation were being rung. The tempest rages with redoubled fury ; another Tivid gleam, another awful pea], and Luther, horror-stricken and aghast, sees Alexius smitten dead at his side. He fiUls on his knees in a paroxysm of fear. Perhaps his own hour is come. The grare yawns at his feet — desth is upon him-— the judgment seat--etemity in all its tresMndousness, — snd the heart of the trembling youth is thrilled by the most overpowering emotions. Before he rises from his knees, there on that drenching ground, there with the horrors of the storm around I, there with the lifeless body of his friend before Luth«r TOWS that if his life be spared he will devote it exclusively to Ood ; he will be more holy ; he will rigidly perform all his duties ; he will ** gird up the loins of his mind," and do with all his might the woik that Ilea before him, and which can only be done on this side the grave. It was an age when the monastic life was esteemed the highest and the most perfect, and he had heard of 8 MARTIN LUTHER. ita poirer to cbinge the heart and to sanetify the soul. He will therefore lead a life of holy Bedosion irithin conyeBtoal walla, and deaenre the j^oriea of hea?eii. Hia reaolye is at once pat into execution. In 1505 he hecame a member of the Aogaatinea at Erfurth, and entered apon hia new career with that reaolate deter- mination which formed ao remarkable a featnre in hia character. Though hia father would ha?e fain altered hia reaolution — ^though weeping frienda aurrounded the convent gate with lamentationa, hoping to perauade him to return — ^it waa all in yaiu : — God had called him, and it waa hia duty to obey. He parte with every memorial of the world he had left ; hia lay habita, hia Maater of Arta ring, he aent back with a farewell letter to hia frienda, and hia Chriatian name ia changed to that of Auguatine. Up to thia period Luther had never aeen the Bible. Portiona of the goapela and epiatlea, which were read in the aervioea of the church, he waa of couiae fitmilUy with; but beyond theae the inapired volume waa a aealed book. '* The Faculty of Theology at Paria had juat branded itaelf to all aucceeding agea by the decla- ration that ' Religion waa undone if the atudy of Greek or Hebrew were permitted;*''* and the general opinion aeema to have been comprehended in the apeech attributed to a popular monk — '' They have invented a new language, which they call Greek ; you muat be on your guard againat it. There ia in the handa of many a book which they call the New Teatament ; it ia a book full of daggera and poison. Aa to the Hebrew, it ia cer- tain that whoever leama it immediately beoomea a Jew !" * Yilltft on the Beformatioii, quoted by Dr. Croly. MARTIN LUTHKR. 9 llie year 1507 was an epoch erer to be lemembered in the life of this great serrant of Gk>d. Being of stodioaa babit8» he spends much of hia leisure time in the fibraiy attached to the jhonastery. He had often resorted thither to pore over its stores of learning, and aa often he returned to his cell, the same man he had ever been, " darkness brooding over the deep waters of his heart." But there comes an hour when all is changed. On one memorable day he bends his way aoeording to his custom along the corridor leading to the Ubrary, and it may be said that the spiritual destiny of Europe hangs on his steps. It little enters into the dreaming spirit of the meditative monk, that this day win be marked out in all time as that which gave an impress to the character of his whole after-life. He Unds in the library of the conventy and chained to the wall, a n^^ected volume, written in the Latin tongue. His curiosity is aroused — ^he opens the book — he reada the title — it is the Bible. He at once gives himself to the study — his attention is arrested — his heart is filled with joy. As beautifully as break the first beams of the morning over the world, the rays of a new truth steal gradually in upon his soul. Day after day he returned to the library. The Bible was read again and again. It was studied and re-studied, until the book which had lain neglected for centuries in the convent of Erftirth, deposited upon the unknown shelves of a gloomy hall, became the book of life to his soul, and through him to a whole nation. In that Bible lay the germ of the noblest revolution that the world has ever seen. As Luther reads vrith an almost trembling delight the sacred oracles of God, his knowledge in* 10 MARTIN LUTHSR. cRMes ; religion, which until now was only a barren form, grows into a limg^ reality, and is ftit to be divine. He finds the word of God to be ** sharper than any twa«dged .sword, pierciDg even to the dividing asunder of soul aad spinft, and of the joints and marrow, and to be a diacerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart." He sees himself as he had never seen himself before^ The law of the Lord has convinced him of sin» and his soul is exercised by a severe internal struggle. He bad not found in the seclusion of the cloister that peace or progpress in holiness which he had so fervently desiitd. The fears that had agitated him about the safety of his soul while yet in the world, pursued him to his cell. Now the struggles of hia bleeding conscience are increased. His mind, enlight- ened by the Word, tells him how holy be ought to be, and what a sinner he is. He can see nothing in him- self but omission, and impurity, and defilement ; no righteousness within, no righteousness without. Justification by works was the doctrine of the monks and theologians of the day. It was only natural that such teaching should well-ni^ drive him to despair, for he felt that if heaven could be entered only throog^. his own merits, there was no hope for his sin-stained soul. His days passed in a long and weary mental conflict, and the silent arches of the cloister often resounded vrith his heart-drttvm cry of anguish. It has been said that be often hurried away from some dis- pute on doctrine, and, overpowered by the struggles of his own heart, has tiurown himself on his bed in aa agony of supplication, crying out in the words of the Apostle, ** He hath concluded all in unbelief that he MARTIK LTJTHXH. 11 might have nerej upon tJL" The moit solemn oere- monies of his church could not hanishi even during the period of their celebration^ the sorrow and angnisfa of his soul. Let me giro yoa an instance. Hie priests are saying mass in the chapel of the conrent; the fkagiaaoe of the incense that has been burnt upon the altar fills the sanctuary with its gratefbl odours ; the last notes of the " Gloria" hare ceased to echo through the sombre aisles^ and one of the monks begins to read the gospel for the day. It is the narratire of the fiuher who brings his child to Jesus that the evil and dumb spirit may be expelled. Jesus ''rebuked the foul spirit, saying unto him. Thou dutnb and deaf spirit, I charge thee, come out of him, and enter no more into him. And the spirit cried, and rent him sore.*' — Hark ! from the choir a cry of piercing anguish thrills through the chapel, and Luther falling upon hia knees ezdaims, '* It ia not 1 1 it is not I !** The monks had attributed his snflTerings to secret intercourse with the Devil, and he thus protests that the anguish of his soul does not proceed Arom any demoniacal possession. On one occasion he had shut himself up in his oell for many days and nights. A friend anxious Upon his account, takes with him some of the choristers, and knocks at the door; he liatena for an answer, but there is none. He knocks again*— all is silent within. fie grows more alarmed—- he breaks open the door. Luther is upon the floor insensible. Edemberger en* deavoura to recall him to his senses, but all in vain ; be shows no signs of life. The choristers stand by mute. At length they chant with their rich and youthftil voices a sweet and touching hymn. The 12 .MARTIN LUTHKR. notes steal gently through the ears of the poor monk, and Tibrate upon the chords of his heart. His colour returns; his eyes unclose; consciousness is restored. But peace comes not with retuming life. There is only one melody which can awaken joy in his soul — ^the melody of the Gospel sound. This has not yet thrilled with all its gladdening power upon his heart. He is still anxious, and downcast, and dispirited. He still toils and labours after peace with God. Like thousands before and since, he sought relief from the throes of an accusing conscience in external ordinances ; in watchings, and fastings, and prayers, and the rigid observance of painful personal mortifica- tion. *' 1 tormented myself/' he says, in one place, " to death, to procure peace with God, and to my agitated conscience; but surrounded with hideous darkness, nowhere did I find peace." ^' I confessed every day, but that availed me nothing ; I could only give way to despair." Under this stem discipline, and a poignant sense of sin, and a trembling apprehension of God, added to intense study, his frame pined away, his health declined, and he sometimes sank down in a death-like swoon* It was at this time, when anguish was preying upon his heart, and undermining his health, and his cell re-echoed to the groans of his bnrthened spirit, that it pleased God to give rest to his troubled and perturbed mind, and to shed upon his soul the balm of heavenly peace. The instrument chosen by the Lord to instruct his servant in the great gospel doctrine of a free salvation, restoring life and liberty to the dead and enslaved spirit of man, was John Staupitz, the representative of a noble family in MARTIN LUTHER. 13 Misnia, and '^^car-General of the Angaatinea throngh- ont Gennany. He himself, through the study of the Bible, and through conflicts similar to those of Luther, which had brought him to the cross of his Redeemer, had found peace with God. At a visit from Staupitz to the Monastery of Erfurth, his attention was arrested by the appearance of a young man, emaciated to the last degree by abstinence, and study, and watchings, the sadness of whose countenance bore evident traces of a mind diseased. He was immediately attracted to the young monk by some mysterious impulse, and pro- fiting by the opportunities afforded through his posi- tion, he sought to win the confidence of Luther. He succeeded. Luther disclosed the anzioua thoughts by which he was agitated ; the pains and agonies of his mind. Staupitz pointed him to Jesus Christ ; to the wounda he suffered for sinners ; to the nails ; to the crown of thorns ; to the blood shed upon the cross. " Instead of inflicting sufferings on yourself, because of your faults, cast yourself into the arms of your Bedeemer ; confide in the obedience of his life, and the efficacioas merit of his death." " Seek not conversion in emaciation and suffering ; but love Him who first loved thee.*' These words fell upon Luther^s ear with all the melody of a message from heaven. He listena in rapt and breathless attention to thia the first dis- eloanre of the fkee and gracious love of God which it had ever been his happiness to hear. His heart is stirred to its very depths by the feelings of an hitherto unknoim joy. '' It ia Jesus Christ,'' thinks he in his heart, " yea, it ia Jesus Christ himself, who so wonder* ftilly comforts me by these sweet and healing worda.'* 14 MARTiiff jjommwu Before the YiGar-Oeoeml left the eonvent» lie gave Luther a Bible» who vejoiced that he was at length maater of that treaaore, which he coaid only read OCcaflionaUy before in the Univenitj libnury, and chained to the oontent wall, or at beit in a fiend's oelL The work thna h^pily began by Stanpitz was cairied on by an old brother in the monastery. Lather was at this time seized by a sadden and dangeroos illness, and again his sonl was distracted by the con- sdoosness of his own sii^Uness, and the thoa|^t of God's holiness. . The old monk recalled to his mind the Apostle's creed, and more especially the claose, '' I beUcTe in the forgiyeness of sios." These words were aa oil to the tronbled waters of his soul : *' I believe/' he repeated to himsdf, ** I believe in the remission of sins/' ** Ah," said die monk, " it is not enoogh to bdievie the sins of a David and a Peter merely are for- given ; devils might believe dial. God commands as to believe that d goes for- ward ; a spirit of inquiry is abroad ; and all things are bring prepared for that hour when the nations shall throw off the bondage of the Papal tyranny, and refuse to submit to an oppression which would crush alike both the mind and heart. The day was beginning to dawn, and broader and more brighUy still the light of HAKTIN LVTHC&. 17 trotli VM desdned to break oyer the world, and diapel Ae daric clonda of sapentitiQii wfaiGfa had so long man- tled it in their gloomy pall. Upon the work of the Beformation priest and prelate might frown; and against its progress h«man exertion and policy might take counsel together ; hut the time had come to free Boiope from her chains, and God had determined that nothing should obstmct the majestic march of troth, or prevent the remal of that pure Ghristain faith which had been so long entombed under the errors and cor- rugations of Rome. Bat we hasten to another period of the Reformer*s fife. In 1510 Luther received a commission to proceed to Borne touching some disputed points between seven eonverU of his order, and the Vicar-General. He goes as the chosen delegate of the former. What feelings most have agitated his enthusiastic mind as he ap- pvoached the metrapdis of Christendom, — the seven- hilled city: whose ways were trodden by Apostles; whose streets were sanctified by the blood of Martyn ; where everything was eloquent of great and noble deeds ; and where holy and reverent memories were at every step awakened in the mind 1 ''When I first beheld VUune,** he says, "I fell prostrate to the earth, and raising my hands, exclaimed, God save thee, Rome, thou seat of the Holy One I Yea, thrice holy, from the Uood of the sainted martyrs which have been shed within thy walls t" Here he saw the gorgeous magni- ficence of the warlike Julius II., who then occupied the Papal chair : the church in all her splendour shone before his daisied eyes : processions psssed before him with rjirdifffl^ and mitred Bishops, with crosses and c 18 MARTIN LUTHER. fgiiCB, and flovera and incense. Here were noble chorcheB with solemn music, and lighted tapers, and rich draperies. Here were holy shrines decorated and adorned with the treasures and trophies of centuries. But he soon disooTered the corruption which hiy beneath this external splendour. The Church may indeed at that time be compared to *' a whited sepulchre, which outwardly appears beautiful unto men, but within is full of dead men's bones and all uncleanness." Rome, instead of being, as he fondly hoped, the supreme seat of Christian virtue, was, he discoyered, the centre of in- fidelity and licentiousness and wrong. Although he still regarded the Pontiff as the head of infallibility, yet for him the silyer veil was for ever torn from the face of the mystery of iniquity ; and there she stood before his eyes revealed in all her naked hideousness and de- formity. He returned to Wittemburg with a saddened and indignant heart, and sought in the Word of the Living God that consolation which he could not dis* cover in a church deformed and defiled by the lying inventions of men. But another scene opens before us ; the martial Julius is dead, and a new Pope holds high dominion in Rome. A monk of the Dominican order, named John Tetzel, who was appointed by Albert, Archbishop of Mentz, appears in Germany, to sell indulgences for the purpose of bringing wealth to the coffers of Pope Leo X. Leo being fond of the fine arts, and a man of expensive habits, had drawn deeply on the treasures of the Pope- dom ; so that to raise money was indispensable, and he attempted to do so under the double pretext of war against the Turks, and the building of St. Peter's. MARTIN LVTHBA. 19. Liige rams were procured by the sale of indnlgenoes thronghoatEaropeyand the money was inetantly absorbed by the expenditure of the court of Rome. When TeUel came into Saxony to make market of hia indulgences, and sell release from the guilt of human Crimea, Luther at once indignantly opposed him, and determined to lay bare his infamous traffic, at yariance as it was with the Word of God, and calculated to destroy the morality and undermine the yirtue of man. Reaol^ing to state his opinions in a series of propositions, he publishes ninety- fire of these, embracing the whole doctrine of penance, purgatory, and indulgences ; and suspending them ou the Church door in one of the thoroughfares of Wittem- borg, challenged a public disputation. Great was the excitement caused by this startling note of defiance ; and so powerful was the authority of the Pope, that eyen those who felt that truth was on the Reformer's side feared to espouse his cause, or stand by him in the moment of danger. And now, mark how finely Luther's character comes out in this hour of peril ; see the fruit of his eariy diacipline ; behold how he has learnt to look danger in the face, and neither to shrink nor blanch at the sight I On the one side stands the miner's son alone against the world ; on the other, John Tetzel supported by the Pope and the Priesthood, and backed by all the eiriland religious power of the proud and dominant Church. Yet Martin flinches not ; he is like a rock ; he is ptrong in the strength of God. He is accused of riolenoe and pride ; he is reproached for rashness and lerity ; the high and the mighty are against him, the learned and the noble oppose him. He is scorned and defied, and looked upon as a lawless and reckless monk. 20 MARTIN LVTRCk.' who derireA to level all ranks and degrees, and to trample npon all discipline and ordeir. Eren his own friends disapprove of his proceedings. The controversy goes on. At length the infamons Tetsel, defeated in lirgument, has recourse to vindictive threats: in his office of Inqnisitor he pahlidy denounces Luther as a heiHic, and sets fire on the scafRdd to the sermons and theses of his adversary. Leo X. endeavours to crush the obscure professor by contempt. " These theses,** said he, ** are written by a drunken Ckrman, who will oeabe speaking thus when the fumes of his wine have evaporated!*' And what says Luther the while? Simply this : — '* If the work Lb God's who can arrest it ? If not who can speed it forward ? Not my wiD, not theirs, but thine, O holy Father in Heaven !** Here, then, we see this man of God armed in the holiness of his cause ; inspired by a deep, intense, overpowering iove of the truth, and actuated by a (aith as simple as it "was divine, standing out alone against Popery in the very height of her power ; in an age when the kings of the earth put their necks under her yoke, and princes bowed in the dust befote the nod of the usurping Pontiff. I 'know of no more sublime spectacle than that of this Mitary man, stirred to tbe very depths of his being by the flagitious dealings of a system endowed with tem- poral sovereignty, and sustained by all the might and pow^ that is of the world, assailing singly and unarmed the abominations of the Popedom, and determined to rescue the sublime mysteries of the Christian fidth from that accumulation of error beneath which they had for centuries been buried. And yet, though unsupported by hnman help. Lather was not alone. God was with ICAIITIN Lt^TBER.: 21 liiiii. He '' to whom bdongeth the ahielda of the eaith," weft on his side. Nor wee it long before earthly Mends were ndaed up to gather round the Beformer and uphold hiB cause. The UniTeraity of Wittemburg, almost to a ^lan, espoused his side. MnitiQ Buoer» already iiunous as a scholar, gave in his public adhesion to the new doty tiinesy and Frederic the Elector of Saxony became his firm end sincere supporter. Nor were these all. The German people had listened to the secants of this noble man as he entered the lists with Rom^ a champion for the noblest rights of humanity, and their hearts echoed to the truths which he proclaimed. They had studied his writings, prof9un4 ss they were dear, and simple ss they were sublime, and they caught something of the noUe .spirit with which they were inspired. Hie flame lifted in his own bosom gradually communicated itsdf from one loind to another, till at length the amouldering fire burst forth with a power that would not be controlled s and a nation catching, his enthustastio ardour, prepared to grapple with all the loroe and fraud •f a eomipt and lying Church, which trsmpled on the hearts and conseienoes of men, end, robbing the gospel of its gieat. central priniaple^ depriTcd it of its power to lenew aad save. Thus, through Luther^s pnaohing and ^ks, a freih li& was infused into Ghristandomi the spiendoor of a dirine Cuth burst upon bar mind, and shaking heryelf firom ttie slumber of osnturies she leadved to be henceforward free, and to take her ppoper positipn in the rigltfeons enisade agsinsi ignona^ and imposture. And .now, the Vatiasa, alsTWifd 1^ the spread of the purs fruth, sMfaqpts to crushVy riolaoce the dauntless spirit of. the i«inis*s 22 MARTIN LtTTHER. son. Luther is sammoned to appear at Rome befoie the Ecdeaiaatical Court within sixty days. He was proscribed everywhere, and his adherents were to be " burned, cursed, and excommunicated." You may not be aware of all the consequences resulting to the person laid under the Papal ban. They were these: such a man was declared infamous, in* capable of performing any lawful act ; was deprived of Christian burial ; was stripped of all fiefs that he held ; had no home or country ; was to bring a curse on all who offered him shelter ; and was exposed to the ven- geance of an almost universal power. But Luther braved all ; and God so wrought on his behalf that the Pope was induced to alter his determination of calling him to Rome, and he empowered his legate, De Vio, to confer with the Reformer at Augsburg. Luther's friends were amazed at the calm courage he displayed as he set out upon his anxious journey to appear before the legate. At last the day appointed for the im- poEtant conference arrives : De Vio is in his palace sur- romided by his suite ; for several of the most distinguished Italians in the train of this ecclesiastical Prince crowd the hall of audience to be present at the interriew. They are anxious to see the obstinate Monk at the feet of the Papal representative. Luther enters the saloon attended by the Prior of the Carmelite convent, and four Mends. There is silence throughout the chamber. The Cardinal, thinking that Luther is about to recant, forbears to apeak> Luther on his part humbly waits for the Nuncio to address him. At length the Reformer's voice is heard expressing obedience to the Church : acknow- ledging that he had published certain theses aad pro* MARTIN LUTHEtf. 23 positions ; and declaring that he is ready to listen to every chai^. The Legate praises his humility, and addresses him as an affectionate and forgiving father might address his erring and prodigal child. The con- ference proceeds. The Cardinal soon discovers the ^irit he has to deal with, and brave Martin makes the polished Italians stare at the undaunted hardihood of his speech. They had expected to see the poor Monk crouch on bended knee at the footstool of the Legate ; they witness the noble bearing of a man who felt that God was with him of a truth. To retract, or not to retraety that was the great question proposed to Luther at this and the succeeding interviews. And what says our noble Monk to the wrathful Legate who demands that he will renounce the doctrines which he has been so boldly teaching ? man of God, let us hear thy voice witnessing for the truth of that Saviour whom thou lovest ! Thus he speaks : " I have no other will than the Lord's, who will dispose of me according to his pleasure ; but had I four hundred heads, I would rather sacrifice them all, than retract the testimony I have borne to the holv faith of Christians." No wonder that De Yio shrunk from further conference, and that he should determine within himself, as he afterwards expressed to Staupitz, ** I will have no more disputing with that beast ; for he has deep eyes, and wonderful •pecnktion in his head." Luther now returns to Wittemburg, and for a time there is a pause; the papal partisans are mute, and Luther, complying with the request of his friends, dis- continued the discussion. At length, Eck, a man of the highest academic renown, and who had carried off the boDOM of no leN than ^ight UnifenilieB, recoMsmMd the oombat. After a diapnte of twmiy daya, ia whuh the cfaampioQ of the Pope wwm defeated, Luther deeed the diepatation with theae iroida, — "The Rererend Doctor fleea from the Scriptorea, as the De?il from befoie the crota. Aa for me» with all dae respect to the Fathera» I prefer the authority of Holy Writ, and thia teat I wonld reoouimend to our Judgea.*' But a greater triumph than any obtained oyer the aobordinate miniatera of the Papacy it shortly to be wofn by the renowned leader of the Reformation ; he is to grapple with the whole power of Rome,-*-he ia to brafe .thewhole wrath of the Vatican. ThePopepttbliahesabuU against Lmther» — ^hia hooka are to be burnt ; it ia made a erinie to print, to preach, or CTcn to read hia works: while liting he ia to be held infiumoua ; when dead, he is to be eoutited unfit for Chriatian burial, and hia aonl, robbed of arary hope of salvation, ia to be condemned to the quenchless firea of Hell. Eck brings the bull into Qcimany $ at some towns it is puUiahed, and Luthei^a booka are comtnitted to the fiames ; in others public iqiinioa is on the side of Luther, and the people ezpreea their feelinga of disgust agunst Eclc, and their deter- mination that the bull shall not be proclaimed. And how fMa the object of the Papal manifesto ? He writes thus to a friend t — " I rejoice that it has fSsJlen to my lot to suffer hardships for the best of causes, but I sm not worthy of such a trial ; I am now much more at liberty than before, being fully persuaded that the Pope ia Antichrist, and that I have discovered the seat of fiitan." And our brave Martin not only speaks,^— he aota too t against the Popa's bull he uttera a protest^ MAETIN LVTfiXB. 35 appeals to a general ooiiiictl» and calls upon Cfaarlfs» Emperor of Oermany, the Elector, Princes, Counts, Baions, Knights^ the gentlemen Conncillors, Cities and oommanities of the whole German nation, to resist vith him the Antichristian conduct of the Pope, for the g^ory of God, and the defence of the Chiurch of Chnat. Nor is be content with this ; he has defied the Pope's anathemaa — ^he will now prove to mankind the scorn in which he holds his aathority. The Church had tiinut him forth from her bosom ; he accepts the solemn divorce^ — he shews to Christendom that hereafter there is a gnlf nsTcr to be bridged oyer between him and Borne. His own writings have been bomt in many of the principal towns, and he is determined to have bis bonfire too, whose fiames, mounting beaTcnward, shall scatter the night of darknesS} and make the skies red with the promise of the approaching dawn. He gives public notice that he is about to abjure solemnly the Pope and the Papacy. On the 10th of December, 1519> at nine in the mornings a great number of the Profesiors and Students of the Uniyersity of Wittemburg^ with Luther at thehr head, march in graye procession to the eastern gate near the Holy Cross t a fbneral pile has been prepared ; one of the chief members of the Uni» fersity sets fire to it : as the crackling flames rise sloft| forth steps Luther^ and approaches the pile with the Canon-law in his hand, the Decretals^ the Clementinesi the Extravagants, and some writings by Eck and fimser^ He consigns them to the burning pile. When these have been consumed, be holds forth the infiumons bull of Leo, and committing it solemnly to the flrsi exchums, '* Since 26 MARTIN LUTHER. thou bast vexed the Holy One of the Lord, may eTcrlosC- ing fire yex and consume thee !" And now the Reformation spreads. The thunder of the Vatican has been defied ; the hosts that were arrayed against the reformer have been baffled ; no despotism, even that which had hitherto kept the earth in fetters, has been able to crush the moral energy of his soul, or to put out the flame which, kindled at the heayenly lamp of 6od*8|word, burned with celestial fervour in his heart. The days of perfect light and liberty are at hand. The reformer has given an impulse to Christendom, and the throne and tyranny of Rome is about to be shaken to its base. But Luther is now to stand for the defence of the truth in the presence of the most exalted tribunal in Europe. Charles the Fifth, now in possession of the imperial throne, in order to gratify the papal legates in Germany, summons Luther to the Diet then sitting at Worms, to dedare in person whether he will retract or adhere to his heretical opinions. His friends try to dis* suade him from his journey : for though the Emperor had promised him safe conduct, yet they remembered that, in spite of every pledge, John Huss, under circumstances neariy similar, had been burnt at Constance. But in vain they beseech him not to pay attention to the Emperors summons: their earnest entreaties produce no other result than the famous words : — ** I am re- solved and determined to obey the summons, and enter the city in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ ; though I were confronted by as many devils as there be roof-tUea on all the houses of the whole world.*' '* But they will bum thee, Luther, to ashes, as they did Huss,'* they said. MARTIN LUTHBft* 27 What then ? "If they were to kindle a fire between ^ttembnrg and Worms, which would reach to the heavens, I would still appear in the name of the Lord^ and enter the jaws of Behemotlt, and treading be- tween his teeth, confess Christ, and leave him to do all his pleaaore/' And now Luther commences the most memorable of his joorpeys ; a nation's heart goes with him. He b sent forth with a thousand blessings, and as he proceeds the population of the Tarioas towns through which h6 passes comes out to meet him, and commend him to the protection of God. On the 1 6th of April, he enters Worms. Attired in his cowl, and seated in an open chariot, with the imperial herald on horseback leading the way, he was escorted by a procession of Saxon nobles, and the people. On the next day he attends the Diet; the crowd is so great that the streets are. impassable, and the only access to the HaU of Assembly is through gardens and private houses ; every roof is. covered by spectators, and when he loaches the ante- chamber he is surrounded by an assemblage of more than 5000 people, composed of various nations, — Italians, Germans, Spaniards. As he stands amongst the thronging crowd, waiting till the door is opened, which shall admit him into the presence of his judges, a vsliant Knight, George of Freundsburg, taps him on. the shoulder, and shaking his head blanched in many battles, says kindly, ** Poor Monk ! poor Monk ! thou art going to make a nobler stand than I, or any other Ci^itain has ever made in the bloodiest of our battles : but if thy cause is just, and thou art sure of it, go forward in God's name, and fear nothing 1 God will not 29 MARTIH LUTHSa; foniketbeeP' At lesgth tbe portal undofles, and lie Is HsheKd into the august assembly: the world's prucea are there, men of rank and powerj men vested with staSe and dignity, and whose names are familiar throughovft Dnropeu There aits the Emperor Charles the RfUu whose sceptre sways extensive territories both in ^i# d, to be divinelj free, To soar and to anticipate the skies." And now again the Chancellor asks him whether be will defei^ his writings, or whether he will recant. And tbe answer is given boldly, in that clear sonorous voice of his : — " I can only say, that unless I be con- vinced by Scripture, (for I can put no faith in Popes and councils, as it is evident^ that they have frequently erred, and even contradicted each other) unless my conscience be convinced by tbe word of God, I cannot and I will not retract, for it is unsafe for a christian to speak against bis conscience." And then, looking ronnd with all the magnificent bearing of a man who has tbe cause of God and of Christ in bis hands, and who feels that the' ti^th must be upheld at tbe haaard of his lifej MARTIN LUTHSa. 31 he adds : — ^Here I stand, I cannot do otherwise, may God help me^ Amen V* It being found impossible to bend the iron will of the Reformer to their wishes — it being discovered that he will neither be threatened into obedience, nor por- soaded into submission — he is commanded to depart from Wonns within twenty-one days, and is promised safe conduct till this period has elapsed.* A few days after he had left Worms a severe decree is published in the Emperor's name, by the authority of the Diet, pro- claiming Luther a schismatic and heretic, forbidding sny Prince to offer him harbour or protection, and re« quiring all men to give their aid in his seizure as soon as the term specified in the safe conduct had expired. As the Reformer, on bis way with his friends to Wittem- burg, is journeying qaietly along the border of the Thuringian forest, he and the rest of the party are startled by a sudden noise, and immediately five horsemen wearing masks, and armed from hesd to foot, spring upon the travellers. Luther is seized, pulled riolently from the waggon in which he is seated, placed upon a horse which is standing ready to receive him, and hurried by his assailants into the gloomy forest. He is conducted to a lofty and isolated fortress named the Wartburg, and situated on the summit of one of the mountains near to Eisenach. The bolts are drawn, the iron bars fall, the ponderous gates roll back, the Re- former passes the threshold, and the doors close behind * To ondentaud the full danger of Lather's position at the Diet of Worms, we must remember that Charles Y . on his death- bed regretted that he had kept fidth with that heretic Luther. Vide M'Crie's Befisnnation in Spain. 32 MARTIN LOTHER. him. He finds, however, that he is amongst Mends. The Elector Frederic, fearing that the maEce of his enemies vould plot new schemes for his deatmction, has in ihis singular manner secored the person of the Reformer, and provided a secret asylum where he m^y reside safely till the first fary of the storm has expended its rage. Here Lather is made to put on die military costume in exchange for his ecclesiastical rohes: his hair and beard are allowed to grow, in order that no one in the castle might be able to recognize him, and he is known only to the people in the Wartburg by the title of the ''knight George.*' There is one prolonged cry of grief throughout Germany for the Reformer. He has suddenly disappeared, and no one can say what has become of him. Astonishment and indignation fill all hearts, and the cause of the Reformation seems lost with its champion. But God's ways are not as man's ways, nor His thoughts as man's thoughts. Re has work for his servant to do in this solitary and retired castle. To use the words of D'Aubign^, "That same God who had conducted St. John to Patmos, there to write his Revelation, had confined Luther in the Wart- burg, there to translate His word.'* Luther knew the value of the Bible,--4t was the well-spring at which he imbibed aU spiritual life and consolation ; its waters had been streams of life to his own soul, and he longed that they should burst forth, and gladden and refresh a parched and weary world. '' Would," he exclaimed, " would that this one book were in every language, in every hand, before the eyes and in the hearts of all men !" He applied himself to the great work of trans- lating the Bible into German ; applied himself prayer- rr MARTIN LUTHER. 33 folly and heartily, and in after years, through the blessing of the Lord upon his labours, his translation -was completed, and he placed in the hands of the people, and in their mother tongue, that same Tolume which is the charter of man's hope; his guide in life; his support in death ; the pole-star which conducts him safely through the shoals and breakers of time to the peacefhl haven of Eternity ! Nor was it to his own country alone that he restored the book of GK>d, which is the book of life to the soul, evolying a world of beauty out of a chaos of disorder ; for tbe Word of Truth went forth from land to land, and has been the author of spiritual life to millions, for generation after generation ; containing all needful supphes of grace for the deepest wants of the oraying beart, and eyer-flowing streams of imperishable comfort f6r tbe imperishable soul of man. But at length the time arriyes when he is to leave the Wartbui^. His- energetic spirit droops under tbe monotony of his seclusion ; he longs once more to join the active battle, to front the rancour of his enemies, and to buckle on his armour for tbe fight. Rumours reach him that some of the friends of the Reformation, more especially Carlstadt, are doing harm to the cause by a headstrong violence and fanatic extravagance, and he believes tbat his presence is required to restrain their wild and disorderly excesses. Therefore, although lying under the two-fold ban of the Pope and the Empire, he leaves his place of security, and appears at Wittemburg, on the public arena of conflict, not to excite, but to calm and quell the passions of men, and to advance by his personal influence and unfaiHng efforts the mighty P 34 MARTIN LUTHER. otnae of God and of mankind. He auooeeded in allaying the commotion; the people could not withatand the well-known Toice, or that convincing eloquence of diction by which they had first been led into new regions of thought. And now, having by his wiadom and moderation, and heroic magnanimity, restored peace and order, he threw himself, aa he did at the beginning, heart and soul into the stru^le with Rome, — ^astro^le not for policy or power, not for sects or schools, not for rank or fame ; but for what transcended all, aa much as the heavenly surpasses the earthly,— a struggle for truth againat error, life against death, the cross against the crucifix, religion against superstition. And he pre- vailed. He purified the Church. He won Uesaings for mankind. He saw some of the fruits of his labours : the work which he commenced went on from the first progressively ; has gone on through more than the three hundred years during which he has taken his place among the bright ranks of the redeemed in glory, the glorious company of the Apostles, the noble army of Martyrs, the goodly feUowship of the Prophets ; and will go on, Ood willing, for centuries to come. Gradually the scales that blinded them feU from men's eyes, and the manacles that fettered them w^re burst asunder. Their souls were disenthralled from the despotism which sought to keep them in bondage, and one nation after another, and our own beloved island among the foremost, at length asserted their inde- pendence of the Bishop of Rome, and proclaiming them- selves free, dashed aside the unrighteous fetters in which they had been so long enslaved. The spread of the true faith may be illustrated by one MARTIN LUTHKR. 35 of those scenes of beauty aod grandeur which are com* men in the Alpine ranges of Switzerland. You stand before daybreak on some lofty mountain summit of that sublime country ; the grey mists lie floating over the ▼alleys ; Alp upon Alp towers around you, wreathed in Ti^ur, vast, indistinct^ and formless like mighty giants in their shrouds. Suddenly a deep purple line foretell* ing the dawn appears in the East. The sun shines above the horizon* and as he rises higher and higher, one peak after another catches his rays, and coming out clear and defined glows with a rosy splendour until the whole panorama is lit up with an almost intolerable radiance ; and lake and valley, glacier and mountain, lie bathed before you in one brilliant flood of glory. So with the RefDrmation ; the moral darkness was gradually dispelled; oneland after another,one country afteranother in Europe, caught the rays of a dinne faith from heayen, and though we have not yet reached the noonday when all darkness shall be dispelled, yet the light increases, and time hastens onwards to the dawning of that blessed period when the noxious clouds of error shall all of them diaperse and roll away before the bright beams of truth, leaving the nations of Christendom and of the world to bask in the lustre and loveliness of the knowledge of the glory of God, as mirrored in and reflected back from the person of Jesus Christ. But I must hasten to its close a lecture which has already made too large demands on your patience and your time. Having to address you on a subject so rich in matter, so sugj^estive of thought, as the life of the great Reformer, I found it impossible to do more than bring befidre your attention some of the more salient and striking points in his history. Much of the deepest 36 MARTIN LUTHER. interest has necessarily been omitted. I should hare liked to haye spoken to yon of the gentle charities of his domestic and conjugal life, for in order to break off as completely as possible from the inventions of the papacy^ Luther determined to become a husband ; he sav that marriage was an institntion of Gk>d, celibacy an institution of man. Therefore, in defiance of the reproach and calumny it would bring upon him per- sonally, he married, at the age of 42, Cadierine Bora, who had some time before abandoned the cloistered life, and embraced the reformed faith. Luther, by this first step towards abolishing the celibacy of the clergy, did much to restore the sanctity of the married state, and to put an end to abuses of the foulest and grossest kind. But I must not stop to speak of the happiness of that domestic life which he now enjoyed, nor must I dwell on the playful buoyancy of a nature which gladdened as with a sunbeam the social circle ; nor on the noble heroism, the poetic sympathies, and impassioned enthusiasm, which all blended in the character of this truest of heroes, animated by as noble a soul lis eyer man received from Gk>d, and who, endowed with the " spirit of power, and of love, and of a sound mind,** gave an impulse to the world, whose effects shall be felt to the furthest generations ; yea, even until that solemn and august hour when tlie Angel of the Apocalypse, *' planting one foot on the land, and the other on the sea, shall lift up his hand to Heaven, and swear by him that liveth for ever and ever, that time shall be no more !" But I forbear ; — I dose with the last scene of all, his death ! How shall such a man die ? with what feelings shall such an honoured servant of God contemplate his MARTIN LVTHEIU 37 tpproachiog end ? As a man with *' hii loins girt, and bis lamp burning." Like another christian hero before him, who in the olden time, when his departure was at hand» was willing to be offered, and longed to be *' absent from the body and present with the Lord." Hear what our aged reformer says, in a letter to a friend written in the year 1546, when he had reached his 63d winter, and his firame, exhausted by labour, and long racked by a painful complaint, is about to give way. '^Old age is with me, and he is always infirm and deoeitfol, weak and sickly. The pitcher after long use must at last be broken at the fountain ; I have lived long enough, and only wait till Gh)d shall grant me that bkaaed hour, when my worthless body shall be gathered to my people." And again he spake thus from the pu^it : — ** I am weary of the world, and the world is weary Uim« thrice, " Lord into thy hands I commend my 38 ItARTIN LTTTfiEA. Spirit!*' A fHend asks him impreadyelyy ''Moat reverend Father, can you die with firm confidence in Christ, and the doctrines you have taught ?'* He givea an audihle answer in the affirmative, but again drops into silence, and appears to slumber. They call him by his name ; he replies not. His breath is drawn more deeply, but quietly still ; and with hands folded together he falls asleep in Jesus between two and three the same night ; and without a struggle to break the awful repose of lus tranquil countenance, his great spirit passes almost imperceptibly away into the presence of the Ood who gave it. We leave him there on his death-bed at Bisleben,-*Hi warrior in his shroud. He has fought the fight, he has finished his course, he has kept the faith. Why speak of funeral pomp, and solemn procession, and dirge-like hymn, as idl that remains of him is escorted to Wittem* burg amid the tears and lamentations of the noblest and the best ? Why speak of the honours with which this defender of the faith was laid in the silent tomb, or of the pictures and monuments which were to be memo- rials of his fame to posterity ? It was well, indeed, that a grateful people should display the highest reverence for his memory, and tell out their gratitude for the blessings he secured to them, in a manner the most expressive ; but it needed not the breathing marble, nor the sculp* tured brass, nor the glowing picture, to keep alive the recollection of his deeds : they will live till time shall be no more. His grave, — ^it was not merely in the tomb where they laid his ashes, — it was in the heart of the people to whom he gave back the heritage of gospel truth. His monument, — ^it was not such merely as the MARTIN LUTHBR. 39 designer might draw, and the Bcnlptor m^ht carve, — ^it was one that could never cmmble, nor decay, nor be effiieed : it was, it is, " Thb Bbpormation." Bat I cannot condade without saying that a great practical lesson is to be derived from Luther's history. It is this : that it was the life of Qod in his soul that made^him what he was. True he had an innate loftiness of nature ; a deep meditative spirit ; a will, which once fixed was inflexible ; self-reliance and mas- culine independence of soul ; vigorous . moral courage, and an energy of mind and body which led him on to achieve whatever he deemed it right to under- take. And these predominating elements in his cha- mcter rendered him a fit instrument in the hand of God for the great work he was to accomplish. But had these natural virtues alone composed his character, hia name had never descended to the latest ages as one eonunanding the reverence and respect of men. It was because the new principle of a dirine life informed all his being that he became the great Reformer. Like any other monk of his time, he might have worn out his days in his solitary cellt occupied with the wearisome round of rites and ceremonies with which Rome bur- thens her priests ; or at best engaged in illuminating soDM carious manuscript, or recording the life of some legendary saint whom the church had canonized ; but the thunder of the Vatican had never been braved in the holy warfare against error, had not the radiance of gospel light beamed in brightly upon his soul. It was when he saw the cardinal doctrine of the atonement in all its clearness ; when the great truth of justification by £uth burst upon his mind ; when Jesus Christ rose 40 If ARTIK Lt;T8Ell. in hie heart, the bri^t day star of salfation, and he knew himaelf a pardoued man, that he felt there waa a work for him to do from which he dared not shrink^ be the consequences what they might. The truth had been manifested to his own mind, and he felt himself constrained by all that was holy and righteous to make it known to others, and to spread once mogre abroad, through the length and breadth of the world, that joy- ful sound of " Glory to God in the highest, on earth peace, good-will towards men!** which had so long ceased to gladden the ears and to thrill the hearts of mankind. And why do I dwell upon this point? In order to impress upon you, my friends, the duty of seeking earneptly, and preserring faithfully aa your dearest treasure, that new life which is the source of all that is truly deserving the name of great and glorious. It is in the strength of that faith which comes frt>m Hearen, that man can alone carry out the great end of existence, and bring glory to God. I know that great earthly deeds may be performed without this inner principle; that a man may be a noble Btate8man> shaking the senate with his eloquence ; a victorious warrior, winning every garland from the hand of fame ; an enthusiastic patriot, dying in defence of his country's hearths and homes, and that he may live in the page of history, from generation to generation, and yet not possess the faith and love which flow down from ^^ the seven spirits which are before the throne." But what are all earthly deeds, all human fame, compared with the religion that makes, nay, that is the life ; which is a substance, a reality, a truth, and which when the noblest things of the world shall be absorbed in the MARTIN LUTHER. 41 great gnlf of forgetfblnesft, shall partake of an undying eDdnrance? The earnest believer, though his position be obecure, though he has no larger platform than the shop, and no vider sphere than the desk, by his fidth** fill discharge of his daily duties^ by his patient sub- ndaston, by his untarnished integprity, brings forth deeds ▼hich are woven into the golden web of 6od*s remembrance, and shall meet with an eternal recom- pense of reward. The righteous," it is said, *' shall be had in everlasting remembrance." Seek, then, not " the honour which cometh from men, but the honour which oometh from God." Strive to belike Luther in the simple grandeur of his fiuth ; in the holy energy of his love. Tou cannot be assimilated to him in the external circumstances of your several lives, but you may be in the internal life which he drew from God. Tour Divine Master has not summoned you to the poaition which the Reformer occupied, oi entrusted you with the work which he was called upon to do, but you have all your peculiar mission, and this you may perform with honour to yourselves and advantage to your fellow-men. Tou are provided with plenty of scope for glorifying God in the daily duties of life, in its daily sacrifices and self-denial, and each of you can do something as members of a Christian community to help on the cause of order, and freedom, and truth, and to give a sensible impulse to whatever is good in the onward progress of the times. ** Quit you then like men," — Christian men, " and be strong." The fountain, at which the Reformer drank in aU the inspi- ration of hia faith, is open to you. The same Saviour with his boundless love is yours ; the same spirit with 42 MARTIN LUTHBR. Hif energising power ; the same Bible vitb its etemai tmthft ; the eame throne of grare to which you can approach ai boldly ; and if yon think and feel and act aa he did» aa men actuated by the love of God, yoma shall be the same sentence of approbation at the laat great day of accoont, and no higher can be imagined or desired,—^ Well done, good and faithfol aenrant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord !" HENEY MAETYN. " Here Martyn lies ! In manhood's eorlj bloom The Christian hero found a Pagan tomb ; Beligion, sorrowing o'er her faTonrite son, Points to the glorioos trophies wfaidi he won ; Eternal trophies, not with sknghter red. Not ttainad with tears by hopeless captives shed, But trophies of the Cross. For that dear name Thro* ererj form of danger, death, and shame^ Onward he journeyed to a happier shore, Where danger, death, and shame, are known no more.' •» Oir the last occasion when I had the pleasure of ad- dressing you, my subject was the life of that " solitary monk who shook the world/' and who was the instru- ment nnder God of giving back to Christendom the heritage of religious truth. Martin Luther, the son of the miner of Mansfeldt, — ^whose great heart was inflamed by a zeal kindled at no earthly altar, and in whose breast there straggled the ennobling influences of a heaFen-born faith, which urged him onwards in his righteous aggression against Rome,—- then demanded our sympathies, and claimed our attention. This evening I have selected as my theme another miner's son,— Henry Martyn, whose father originally woiked as a common labourer in the mines of Gwenap, 44 HENRY teARTYN. in Cornwall. The lives of these two men of God, their characters, their vocation in the world, were as dissimi- lar as the ages in which their several lots were cast. Round Luther there gathers more of a chivalrous and romantic interest. The century in which he lived, giving hirth to gr^at men and great events j the magnificence of the Papal throne, against which he entered into con- flict ; his imperial soul, which no power could fetter, and no t3nranny could daunt ; his far-piercing intellect, which detected and laid hare the most suhtle and astute sophistries of Rome's most celehrated priests; that energy, that endurance, which have gained for him a wide-world fame, — all comhine to invest his history with a vivid and peculiar attractiveness. Far different is it with the comparatively uneventful life of Henry Martyn. He moves in a more contracted sphere. His deeds rivet not the eyes of Europe. He fronts no kings, is hrought hefore no rulers ; he achieves no exploits of daring ; his name helongs rather to the home circle of the church than to the vaster arena of the world. And yet I trust that we shall find much to ani- mate, to encourage, to ennohle, in the record of that more limited career through which he was enabled to serve and glorify his God. The humblest flower that lies in beauty at our feet has its divine teachings, as well as the brightest star which shines in the firmament above. It comes not within my power to-night to adduce thrilling statements of human enterprise, or to tell of deeds of heroic daring, such as make the pulse beat high and the heart throb quick : though I shall have to apetik of sacrifice and endurance ; and of a man who, though HENRY MARTYN. 45 of himself obscure, was rendered noble by the glory of a divine love, which inspired and upheld him in the cause of God and of his Christ. There are names in ecclesiastical biography far more, conspicuous than his who is to engage oiur attention ; bat I doubt much whether any one of them, though some belong to those who sleep in the martyr's grave, and wear the martyr's crown, ever laid himself more willingly " a living sacrifice" on the altar of the Lord, and more readily surrendered love, and fame, and country, at the call of what he believed to be a duty, than did Henry Martyn. From the great world without there are often borne to our ears high-sounding words about heroes and heroic deeds } and if yon ask the world for the men it dignifies with the title, and whose names are written down amongst its annals, it will point you to the man of high daring and lofty enterprise ; to the conqueror on the red field of war ; or to the patriot who bravely defends the altars and the homes of his native land. And I am not in- sensible to the charms that invest the chivalrous deed or the patriotic exploit ; and the heart must be cold and dull which does not kindle as it thinks of the soldier who, not for a selfish end, not that he may. weave the laurel round his own brow, but like that venerable old man who was lately laid in the grave with a nation's tears, goes forth at the call of his country, to dare, to sacrifice, to endure, only so far as she commands, and having performed his mission returns home again to repose gratefully amongst the citizens whose rights he has defended, and whose liberties he has secured. The heroic element exists in such a character, and 46 RSNRT M ARTYN, demands our warmeet recognition. True greatness is not to be measured by cities ravaged, and nations coiv> quered, and villages overrun in order tbat one man maj set his individual self on a pedestal which culminates above the worid ; but rather is it to be looked at through the light of self-sacrifice, when the strongest ties are broken, and the fondest hopes are quenched ; and danger is braved, and toil is endured, that others may benefit by the peril that has been encountered, and the en- joyment that has been renigned. And if this spirit of sel^4acrifice must enter into the character of every one who deserves the name of hero, then where are we to turn for the most striking illustrations of this virtue ? where shall we find the most touching records of men who with no earthly reward in prospect, with no hope of public honour, or glory, or gain, have trampled on every selfish thought, content to bear all that wrings the heart or wears down the firame : yea, to be brought face to face with death, that others may obtain blessings only to be ob- tained through their loss. Where are we to tmm for such examples as these ? Not to the red scutcheon on which is emblazoned the name of the warrior; jiotto the marble monument on which is engraven the form of the statesman, however deserving he may have been, and however worthy a place in the great heart of a nation's love, but to the record of some Missionary Society, where I read of men who have forgotten kindred and cotmtiy, and all that is most dear in life, and have hastened to polar snows, and to burning sands, that they may carry the tidings of salvation to the benighted and degraded of their race, not shrinking even firom death, but " hazard- ing their lives for the name of the Lord Jesus Christ" HBMRY MARTYN. 47 Poetry may pour the full splendour of its impassioned praise o?er the patriotism of a Tell, who, fearless as the slonii which plays round one of the mountain summits of the glorious country of his hirth^ wrenched the iron yoke of foreign despotism from his native land ; or may weave into its melodious stiains the deeds of that other, and not less nohle, Swiss,* who, that a breach might be made in the serried line of the enemy, sprang forth from the ranks, and opening wide his arms clasped to his heart as many as possible of the foemen's spears ; giving them bis own breast for a living shoath> that his country might be saved. Or it may chaunt the fame of Christopher Columbus who braved the dangers of an untravelled sea that he might find a readier path to the rich and gorgeous East ; and whose adventurous spirit was at length rewarded by seeing a Dew woild rising majestically up out of the bosom of the deep. Every one admires, and every one is ready to extol, these magnanimous feats of chivalrous devotion and mighty enterprise ; but if we embalm in our memories the names of thoee who have thus won for themselves a page in the history of the world, shall we not esteem * Arnold of Winkehied. <• He of bttttie-martyn obief I Who, to recall hi« daunted p€ecB, For yictory shaped an open space, By gathering, with a wide embrace, Unto his single heart, a sheaf Of fatal Austrian spears." WOBDSWOBm. 48 HENRY MARTYN. worthy of our admiration and our praise the zeal of the Christian Missionary, who breaks up every fondest as- sociation that he may encounter the perils of the ocean, the hardships of unhealthy climes, and intercourse with the savage and the barbarous, — having but the one holy object in view, that of telling the simple story of the cross in the ears of those perishing mUlions who are ignorant of the grace and riches of the love of God? Is not a Brainard, a Schwartz, a Williams, all of them martyrs in spirit, and one of them in terrible reality, deserving a niche in the temple of fame ; and should not their names have a place on the starry bead-roll which is consecrated to those who have been the bene- factors of mankind ? And Martyn, who forms the sub- ject of my lecture to-night ; Martyn, who, though crowned with the highest honours a University could bestow, and distinguished by talents which attracted the admiration of one of our most celebrated seats of learn- ing, joyfully abandoned the shades of academic renown for a tempestuous ocean and a burning clime, that every energy of mind and body might be devoted to the service of the cross ; shall we not venerate his memory, and give him a foremost place amongst the objects of our regard ? As we advance in his history, it will be seen by you all that he was endowed with a patience, a fortitude, a hu- mility, a love, a zeal for the divine glory and the sal- vation of men, such as has not been often paralleled since the days that Apostles trod the earth, and made mani- fest in every place the savour of the knowledge of Jesus Christ. 49^ Qemry Vtatyn. was- bara io Traro, in Uib counliy of Ccmnndl^ m tlie- year 178h being (he third child of a amaenMU iuaily Hie fiuheiv a man in humble life> mth little- edacatioa». appean to. h^^re been gifted by BttBTO with a large diare el energy, mental at- well as piiyaical.; - forit ia leeorded that he seised on- every period' Qf.vdaxaiieo fiaom maimal lahenrvand devoted it to the. ftafrowmuent of hie miad^ Byi his own exertions he nosed hinMelf from a, state of fwexiy and depression to OBa of eampaiativiei ease aod eomfortr and obtained a< tttaatiiiii as (^ief clerk in the office of one Mr. DanieU a merchant o/ Tmiso* Litde is known, of Henxy Marlyn's' childhood, nor is theaa aay fiiU aoeooat of his sohool^days.. There is mengh, however^ to tell us that he was a boy of a natural Rntleieas of epirity— "inferior to most of his companions in bf>dily etmngth^. of good abilities, but. of little appli- cation*. 1 1 is enident that -even as a^ hey he was not with<- Qut at oeitaiaj msolnteDesi of will, for wh^ he was be- tweso feurteeD'aod fitfeen years of age he, went to offer bioself for a candidate-for ainaoant soholamhip at Corpus Christi Coll^ge^.Oxford* Though so young, and without vy inteseat- in the UniFersity, and. with- only a single bUer to one of the tutors, he went there alone; and though he was unsuoeeesfnl in his object, yet, with, able ^Vpooents, he passed so good an- examination that some of his examiners thought he ought to hare been elected. Them was, however, a' special Pixnridence overmling Us fiuiure at this time. Had he sucoeeded, the whole ^fhv of his fiiture life would have been changed, and ^ t|iiiitual welfere would have been injured by his tem* 50 HENRY M ARTYN. poral success. He confesses to this himselfy in an ac- count prefixed to his private journal many years after. '' Had I remained, and become a member of the Uni- versity at that time, as I should have done in case of success, the profligate acquaintances I had there would ha?e introduced me to scenes of debaucheiy, in which I must, in all probability, from my extreme youth, have sunk for ever." But God was merciful to him, and withheld him from a sphere in which even he, with all his pure instincts and earnest aspirations, would have sunk down into all that is degrading ; making, like too many others who have been exposed to the fires of temp- tation, his body the grave and sepulchre of his soul. He was just at that time of life when the character is most susceptible of impressions for good or evil. And had he come in contact with associates who would have fostered his worser impulses> had his mind been cor- rupted by those whose great pleasure it is to make the innocent as vile as themselves^ he might have been tram- melled for ever in the bondage of evil, and have gone down to an unhonoured tomb, " wounded and slain by the sins of his youth." The Lord was with his young servant ; and when, two years after, he became a student of Si. John's College, Cambridge, the circle into which he was introduced was one to advance rather than to retard his best interests ; while the true friendships he formed there lasted through life, and many of them are now renewed in eternity. I believe there is nothing that tells so much upon our after career as the friends we make when first we leave the domestic circle and are thrown upon the world. We are all so constituted as BBNRT M ARTTN. 51 members of the human fiunily, that we are acted upon hj the companions with whom we associate, and become in a measure assimilated to those into whose society we are much thrown. This is a truth which I would impress on the youthful portion of my hearers. I would beseech them, with all earnestness, to beware of selecting as firiends any whose moral principles are not flomid, any who care nothing for the salvation of that soul for which Christ died. Be not induced to choose your companions, as many do, for the brilliancy of their talents, or the fascination of their address, or because they possess endowments and advantages which render them attractive and prejKMsessing. The very thing which clothes their friendship with so much danger is the specious charm with which they can invest sin, and the subtle grace which they can throw round a false or an infidel sentiment. There is no surer way to wring the hearts of all who long for your best interests, no sorer way to bring a blight upon your prospects here and hereafter, no surer way to lay up reproach and remorse for yourselves in after days, than to associate with the Keptic just because he happens to be witty, or with the WDsnalist just because he can make himself entertaining ; and to suffer yourselves to be seduced from the paths of rirtue by the profane and the scornful, who delight to get hold of the young and inexperienced, and to make them " twofold more the child of hell than themselves." See that you consort willingly with none but the wise, the virtuoas, the righteous ; with those whose aspirations ve high, and whose aims are holy, — whoset reasure is in heaven, and whose ''affections are set upon things f 9. ^KRX ¥4%TZK^ ^v^y I would enfoifpe my vqx43 V lemi^diog.youi o/ tb^ sutemenjc q( tbe,4posU^ Paul :.. " EyUqppiiiMm-» catioDs cprrupt gpod ipana^n ;;*' ^ud, by TQCulliDg the worda i>f tbQ royal SqIoxdob :. **- He UuDt walketb with ifise 19611. 9haU. bus wise ; but a ^iM]pwio]ri of fool^. ^aU bi9 djMtioyed." The firs( yeais.of tleni^ M/^rt^s College Qf^ jpofieol^ Qpthiiig particular for commeu^ ^ be pursued tb^ uqif^. ksa tenos of bis way io. a manner wbiob called (of. genera). approbation; be was externally akoi:al^.an<], now uu wearied in his application*. . Qat th^re is a wide di^tiQctioQ betwjeeo natural ?irtuf^ ai^ dmnebolifness. The ^icitual elem^Qjl l^ad uot^ ye^ bpen. infused into his ebaracter^ His. gopdness. waa t}ie, oi&pring of natural t^mpepvnen^ and social cu)t^re» a;pd was not based on that "■ cleiMi heai:t and right spirit** which .are tl^ new cri&ation oft God* It is well WjS shpuld haF^ clear, rieif s on the difference between virtue and grace. There ia.sonietbiug more requirj^d thaq the, beauties of a natural ch^ractier to 4^ a. iqi^ fpr '* tha inheriu^lce of tl^e saints in lights" There mujst be a l|tuHnony between the soul and tl^ mind of Godv Th,e virtuous man. la not necessarily a. holy ma^i ; and ** with- out holiness np man can see the Lord." The spii^t of G^d must brood over the dark wa(ei3 of the natural hearty and call life* and light, and order out of the cqn- fused and distempered chaos* or there can neyer l^ thalt conformity to Christ in which cousist the main ejenient^ of the Christian character. I^pw I wish ypu tp observe that Henxy Martyn^ truthful,, upright, large-hearted, Qlear-headed, wiuning, tke Io?6 )KnA «lD8uting UK6 rti^{)ea of ill, wa)B not yeft It *«)>ifitiial ifiim ;**" he was IftfU «*tiWhg without God itt tiife irorid.*' One ^eitbeptiM to hh ^^ml amiabiAtjr of chamctdr ky in VI tent&n tfrittiUlfty of temper wMch wad uatuffek to hixn, and which had been increased during his ywtage^ ^ys by ^e tytanny tod '0pf)Te8sion of some of the Mer bo)rB in the »6lioo! wlierd he Wild educated. Tbese Mdon gntts of pasaioin hitd en one oi^casioti nearly liroittgbjt the ain nf blood-guiitiu^s Wi his iseul. A fiitiad Mkcttes his tiapfr, and Henty Matt^, obeying ^ first violent impulse of his disturbed tempef , batches k kttift and throws it M tke <>ffeuder, not knowing W Uitt It may be boiied In his heart Thrdngh five good«^ mik of G^ he misdisd hib aim, and the kni^» glftncing by his (Kend^ was left frdmMing In Ihe Wall. Another pioof tbaA his heait imh ht from God at this time H gifOD ik h^ anbe^oMnlDg )i)earing, not only to a loving «ad pliMiA Msler, but likewise lb his kind nnd indulgent father. fiis yt»tfngMt tfstor, me^k, hi^ivenlyHafiinddd, ^nd iftotionaus, wtti taiodt bmtioui nboM his spiritiMl state, tad •tea in the tenderolt nAnner nrged ^cphti hitai the iefedm «laifttt ^f religion. Be this wtitei ^ after years of the sinftd frame of ■rind by which he WM animated during a summed va^- tioa ipeiKWiyihis tunilyt"^"! not rememb^ a time iu Whiek the wicke^ess of my heart f ose to a greater height than dnring my itay at home. The 6onsi^mmate aslfidmesfe ad vnqtdsite irritlibiliiy bf my mind were liiplayad in nge, miliee, and en^y ; in |)Hde and tain ^oiji and ooMempt of all ; in the harsheal language to 54 BBNRY MARTTir^ my sister and even to my father, if he happened to difier from my mind and will ! I left my siater and lather in October, and him I saw no more. I promised my sister that I would read my Bible for myself, but on being settled in College^ Newton engaged all my thoughts/' But there now comes a turning point in his history. An erent takes place which is overruled to his eternal good. In the midst of scientific pursuits and literaiy attainments, God shows him that there ife " one thing needful," and that without this all human knowledge is but hollow and vain. It is the Christmas of 17d4, and he has just passed a most successful examination. He is first among his competitors, and sends the joyful intelligence home* He hears in return that his father is delighted, and is not only in the highest spirits, but in the best of health. But in tbe very week after, he receives another letter; it is from his brother. He breaks the seal ; he reads. His father is dead ! The sudden, the unexpected tidings, overwhelm him with anguish. Mournful thoughts of the last time he ^nt at home, and the pain he gave that father, and the neglect with which he treated him, now come over his mind, and tear it with a wDd and hopeless grief. He can never more see him to ask forgiveness ; he can never atone for past unkindness by filial obedience for the future. It is too late. Then thoughts of the invisible world force themselves on his mind ; he also as well as his father must pass through the grave and gate of death. His spirits become affected; he is low and downcast. He takes no pleasure in his former studies; BSMRT MARTTN. 55 he has no heart to pursue them. And now he begins to read the Bible. Newton, who has hitherto been his guide, leading hiui upwards to the star-paved firmament, and teaching him the wonderful harmonies of the universe, is left for that diviner book on whose pages the '* bright and morning star** sheds its lustrous rays ; and which tells how the'* Sun of Righteousness, with healing on his wings," is ready to impart life and light to eveiy benighted heart. At first he reads with a darkened uuderstanding, and as much as a matter of duty as pleasure; but by degrees the spiritual discernment is imparted, through which he is enabled to see the great and glorious things which belong to the kingdom of God. He begins with the Acts of the Apostles, because he thinks it the most amusing portion of the Bible ; but be is led insensibly to give attf^ntion to the words of our Lord and his Evangelists. The ofiTers of mercy and ibigiveneas, so full, so free. Mi upon his inquiring mind like the ^ tender dew upon the mown grass/' When he first began lo read the Scriptures, he had •bo begun to pray ; but at first with little sense of his own sinfulness, and therefore with little of that earnest- ness which is the sure accompaniment of a '' broken ^nrit and a contrite heart." But now that he compre- Jiends the grace and gloiy of the everlasting covenant— now that he understands how liberal, even as the air we breathe, or the sunlight that brightens around us, is the love and. mercy of God in Christ, he prays with earnest- ness and hope to be made partaker of the rich blessings of salvation, and with an overflowing heart pours out his gratitude lo the Lord for not leaving him without conso- The working* of his heart were now fireely dis* 06 ijosed to bw cMer, who jo^Mj helpt luai in ikm mty of eff erlastiDg life ; and noier tho fMBtoral lagtruetioo of the Rev. *C. Simeon, of Tria&tj Ctevch, CainMc|ge» he gradually requires more knowledge in the ▼aye of G4i4. in liim are verified Um wordt of the wise man t " The path of the joat is as the ehiBlng fighi yAMi ahfineth more aad more onto the perfect day." Sonow m hk case, as in many others, was ihe means oH mnki^ hm wm\ io God ; being eanctified* -** it yieldbd the p eac^ab to fruits of righleeiisnees/' and ont of the Ihoroes and agonies of inlenial ttiholation, the new man was lonaed in his heart; even that ^'aev man which after Goi ia created in righteonaness and troe hoiinaas.*' Before the close of his aeadeimoal careeiv Hanirjr Marlyn auaiaed to diat emmenoe on which, finam hk ifst entering Cottege, his ambitbn had been fixedb He had toiled with such nnwearied diligence an the hope of Teaching this station of temaikabk mariCy that he wns known in his College as '' the man that had not loei an hour I" And now his stady and aolicittide were rewarded ; and befinnB he cimipleied his dOih year, he obtained the highest honour ihe DntyeTBity can bestow Chat nf fienior Wrangler, in the Januaiy of 1801. But he now, in the very moment of anecessM ambi» tion, fdt how utteriy helpless are hiunan attainments to €11 the wanta of the immortal soul. For there is aaenaa of dissatislhction underlying the higheat of earthly dia*- tinctions. The cmrm of barrenness b upon all. Them are emnngs in the heart of man which the husks of the world cannot satisfy* What were the feelings of the aooceniful candidate himself on this oocaaion? ^I obtainad nij highasi wiftbes, hm, w«8 surprised to ^«m1 tint I liftd gnspefl -k Andtm !" Tfae confMikm of Kittw WhtUt l» an tai** nittie Iricfbdy after « aW M k r triampb «t CunMdifey mf W iroH placed side by Mb wkh that bf Henry Motyik " Were I topaki^^ he aays^ ''apictinre of Fane cvownsng • dtfldngiiisbed uadergraduate, after ifee seiiate-lkoiHe €KaaKBMU9oii, I ivoald «&ptesaiit her as eoncealing a 4«m1i*s iMad under a mask ef bmuty." Pen- Wliite ieHl ma early ▼Setim to his consmBiiig tfeorst for aoademic boooOTs. Ha euMied the arena i^f oompelicioo arkh the •e e ds of deaili already soim in his frame throi^ fn*' meted iMerrs ef study, and Innid in tlie jilaoe «o wl^eb lie BO long lee^Led forward with' h(^ ^ choly a 'h6l4ied lo ripen tiMm." flow eloquent eie sac^ records as these ef the ^vanity «€ fannmn ambitioil ! ^ Vanky and rezaliott of spirit" IB wiitteb in the olesffest chantctofs M all the peieaiis that aie only of this ^oiidv The testteioiiy ^f even ^ jttoat eoicoeBBfol candidatas in the atena of luiaaaft faou#an beats o«t the assertion of the inspired boofe» " that man widketh in a vain sImmIow, aad disqalBtetk UoMBlf fnnBn;"that^he epends kis money for thai whiah is not bread, and his labont kft fhift Which does not satisfy/* Want ye proof of this? Then listen to the poet's stminS) and you will find that his melodioiia songs an bnt one long<^dimwn «igh, as he mosms over the koUoWaess and disappointmsnts ef earth. Or search the page of histoiy* and you will discover the same aoiemB trach ; for it is one which has been written in the teBn» and regtstered in the sorrows, of mankind. Yon bear it an the lamentations •f oenqnerors who hive van« qusiied die wodd, and wept that no ether wBVld remaiDed ^8 HSNRY MARTirN. to be OTercome; it is attested by the repinings of tbe man of pleasure, who has drained every cup of enjayuent, and has gone the round of all human delight ; it is con-^ firmed by the confession of statesmen, who have shakoi the senate-house by their eloquence, and directed a nation by their wisdom. ''Vanity and vexation of spirit" has been inscribed on the proudest triumphs of their greatness*, and engraven on the loftiest monuments of their fiune. But although I thus speak of the inabi- lity of any earthly object to fill the craving desires of a soul made at first in the image of God, and therefore only to be satisfied with w)iat is Godlike, I would not be understood as uttering a word in condemnation of intel- lectual and scientific pursuits. It is becoming a being so richly etidowed as man with the noblest capacities, to make truth his guide, and the acquisition of sound jtnowledge his aim ; to soar with the astronomer to the boundless fields of space, fretted with golden fires; to dive with the geologist into the lower parts of the earth, where nature carries on her various processes in daAneas and mystery ; to disport with the naturalist among the flowers pencilled by the Almighty's hand, and to study under his teachings the habits of the animated tribes which either tenant the earth, or skim the waters, or in- habit the air. Far be it from any one to lay an arrest- ing finger on the diffusion of knowledge^ or to look with a jealous eye on any honest investigation into the works of the Creator, for science is alike dignified and sanctified when she consecrates her energies to the shedding new light and lustre on the manifold wisdom and goodness of God. You cannot be too learned, too acute, too intelli- gent, if only, instead of debasing the royal dowry of BSNRY MARTYlf. 59 intellect into a means of foeUnriDg vanity and pride, and ensuring worldly applause, you exalt it into the band- maiden of religion, and sanctify human talent to the glory of the Giver and the advancement of your fellovf men. That the most vigorous pursuit after truth can never be dangerous to the man who engages in it with a reverent and devout spirit, is strikingly illustrated by the example of a Locke and a Newton, who, though they proved themselves the possessors of powers of mind gigantic alike in discovery and researchf ever, amidst all their learning, came and laid them down by those green pastures through which flows the pure river of the water of life, that, drinking deeply from the ** wells of salvation,** they might obtain refreshment for their weary and exhausted souls. So possible is it for piety and in- tellect to move on in harmony together — ^yea, for the loftiest attainments in human science, to consist with the noblest in divine ! Before Henry Martyn finished his academical course, he won iresh honours ; in 1802 he was chosen Fellow of St. John's ; and very shortly afterwards he was awarded the first prize for the best Latin prose composition ; '^ a distinction the more remarkable, as from his entrance into the University he had directed an unceasing and almost undirided attention to mathematics/' But the ** honour which cometh from man" now occupied but 9 secondary place In his mind ; he was also alive to hie best interests ; and it was his delight as well as his endea- vour to ** grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ." A friendship which he at this time formed with Mr* Simeon was the instrument of much profit to his soul. void «iider Owd becud^iiliettteis of liA«lfl|;lii8tlKitigto to tbe ChriMiati tninistiy, tfid of givitig li4il(h to 4 Mbit in his btfut of ift«v(»ting MtttKellf ttt when thai food mom ba^^^ns to make ii T^ttait on ihe ustoM fmneifitt ivbicb rftsalt from ttie eervkm ^f cKren « ain^ wiflsSomoyt The patwtt akhiAed to waa Dh €at«y, in %b08e heart ^e lo^e ttf the Lord Jeslia Cliriat biirhed brightly, and who went fordi in tbe attetigtb «if <3«d tA fiiodoataity that be might acisaal the tedst Wnpendons ayatem of Idotatiy ever framed by the great adversaty of aonk. Mail's attention ia ti once arrested; bid tboogbts are filled with tbe rast importance of tbe mia* aionaiy anbjeet, atod bis aoul is sthted within bim at Ibe Ihottght of these peKtshing millions Who are ignMukt ot tbe Mme vf Jesna. He new reads Uie Hfe of Da?i^ Braiiiard, who having fatboursd with l^markable sncceas amongst the North American Indiana, "^died in tbe iLord*' at the early age of 3d : and be resoltes, in the ardonr of a holy emniation, to follow bis noble and blessed example. Tbe determinatioil is made in tio light or empty 8|^rit ; be has a heart watmly attached to liome, and friends, and knotty ; be is fbhdJy devoted to Ibe refined enfeynents of socid and literary life ; and be feels tbe extent of tbe sacrifice be mnst make, and the iriala be mnst endnM. He fa no quixotic enthnsiast; DO wild ndfentttier ; be sita down and connta tbo coat On the QfD9. sida b- tihe happiBQw of home «Dd « 9p]e9dj4 QU^eer, and nil thq teQder assodatioiis that bind 08. tft lov^Dg; cQippapions. and attached fiAendaj;, on the otbec •Te the hurdships of a foreign laBd«,and commnnion wijtk tke ignoiapt and unenlightened, and a residence amongjrt ^auigeTB. animated hy no tiea •£ sympathy or affection* Bat then into the latter scale he thnowa the gloiy of hia^ 8i|yiour« i^ich maj be furthered throqghhi^ devotion iq, tbe ifork,, and the interest of immortal, souls, and th# cmBO^and of his master, ** Qo ye, therefore, and teach, all natipns, baptizing them in the. name q( th^ Father, and o( the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.'* Yon cannot^ fiionder^ therefore, that he does, not hesitate which, patk to choose., tbe flowery *one of self-indulgence, or. tjie thorny one of self-denial. The latter ia his election^r and he ofieri hiinself as a. Missionary tp the noble. Society (or missions to Africa i^nd the East, now. known by thei^ame. of the Church Misuonary Society,-^ an institmion laigely owned pf God in. the. conversion, of many thousands of souls. I^ was in. the Cafhedral.ChuKhof Ely, in the Octeb^ of 1803, that. Henry Martyn took upon him the solepa office of an ambassador of Christ, dedicating himself to, God as the measenger of His will and the teacher of His truth. He was deeply in^pressed with the weight oi hia ordjnution itows, and would have been o^eiiwhelmed l^ the thought of hia.respcwsibility, had he not leaned on the strength of Him who, before he passed into the hemvens, left the promise to His discdplesi. '^ Lo, I am with you always, evjsn unto the end of the world/' That which was a comfprt to Polycaip as a Bishop, was his. consolation as % Deacon/--4hat be who was. ooostitnteA ooerMemr qI the chiirch was hipiaelf averloaked 62 HENRT MARTTN. by Jesus Christ; and that in the discharge of his office as pastor of the flock, he was ever under the gracious superintendence of that great and good shepherd who " laid down bia life for the sheep." His pastoral duties were commenced under the auspices of Mr. Simeon, in the Church of the Holy Trinity in Cambridge ; and he likewise undertook the charge of the parish of Lol worth, a small village at no great distance from the University. A few months after his ordination, his design of leaving England as a missionary seemed on the point of being frustrated by the loss of his slender patrimony-^« loss in which his sister was involved. Independently of bis pecuniary resources being thus cut ofi*, he did not think it justifiable to leave his sister in a distress which his presence in England might remove. The trial was sharp, but he bore it patiently, for he felt that the Lord was doing all things well. His friends at this time did all that lay in their power to obtain for him the situation of Chaplain to the East India Company, for which they thought him peculiarly fitted, and their endeavours were not long after crowned with success. The maniage of his sister left him at liberty to accept the appointment. In the intermediate time we find him zealously pursuing his parochial duties, fulfilling the office of Examiner in St. John's College, to which he was three several years elected, and " fighting the good fight of faith" with the world without and the heart within. His journal during this period, while it tells us of his fervency in prayer, also reveals to us the severe conflict which was carried on in his soul between the old mun and the new ; the flesh lusting against the spirit, and the spirit lusting against the flesh. The Christian life has the same development in all that are bom of God ; and stiirthe cry uttered long HENRY MARTYN. 6^ ago by a saiot in ancient days, has to be ecboed back by each trae member of the Cburch of Christ — *' O inretcbed man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death !*' In the March of 1805, he was admitted to the fbnc- tions and privileges of a Presbyter at St. James's Chapel, London ; after which he received the degree of Bachelor of Divinity, conferred on him by the University of Cam- bridge. Nothing now remained to detain him in Eng- land ; hia way was opened to depart from her shores for ever. There is a great struggle in his heart when the smnmons at length reaches him that he must go. All that be is to leave, all that he is to endure, rushes upon bis mind* There is tumult and anguish in his soul, and sorrow such as they feel whose heart-strings are torn by sudden and painful partings. Thus he writes in bis journal — ^' I shed tears at night at the thought of my departure, and the roaring sea that would be soon rolling between me and all that is dear to me upon earth." He has not only to sever the fond ties of family and friendship ; more tender and stronger cords are to be buTBt asunder. He has formed a deep and fervent attachment to a lady in Cornwall, ''an attachment which," says his intimate friend and biographer, " whether be thought, as he afterwards did, that it should be encouraged, or as he now did, that from peculiar cir- cumstances it ought to be repressed, equally exhibits bim as a man of God whose ** afiections were set upon things above, and not on things on the earth." There was a difference of opinion respecting the propriety of his onion among his friends, and his own mind often felt a conflict on the point; at times he seemed to think volun- tary celibacy the more noble and glorious life ; at others hw. hoart. sUooglji indioad t% maoriage. Thsra. iiifi|^ lw««.hfien scvnethiogof weaJkoew tai iadecuian hi thi«; bnt «Q aratpeakuig not of aa aagieli but of a man ^ qqa of like passions with ourselves^ and conpaaaad abont wilb Vkn infinnily* Wbaa at.leugth it. was* decided he should go out singl^y ereB: if afterwards he might find it well X0t pe]PsuadajMjaa Gianfall to join, him m Indii^-^and abeii haibra hia. d^partinie,. made, no objection, to this httax^ ajxangamenty-^ia entries in his joomal betny how deefiljp ba felt, the. sepaiation— *'* My heact is neady to. bveak witba^ny; why have my friends mentioned the snb*^ jjMit? It bM^ tora open old wounds^, and I am^agaia bleeding." Ba saw bar no mora altar ha leit En^and« find in conseqqai^oe of tbe diaappointment a darknesa'falh upon, hia lijb>. out, of the shadow of which he neFoc entizaly paas^d^ But we must touch this part of ow ^abject with, ar gentle hand* Them ar» certain foelingfa- of thahtean over which. it ia.becuming to< throw the deli*- cata veil.of ailencei ** Kot easily to be foi^iren Are thoee^ who, setting wide the doors that bar Tbe secoet bridal ohambers of the heart, Let^ in the dky." Enough, has been aaid to show yiou. that MaxtyA felt the trial,, and felt it acutely ;, that it. entered eFon. as a< sharp sword into his soul ; and yet that he. countad all. things but loasifpr Christ, and was content to lose all for Him^ He was. ona who yearned after the sympathy and society of hia fellows, and shrunk. sansitiFely hrom tba ^dnasa of a lonely Ufa. fiut all waa overcome by. tba cpnatraining^mptives of love and duty. "ShaUtlbaair t»ta*" W* ^i " ^ P<^ ^¥. dafft.ui coaatam aoiitude* 9BNRT M4RTYN, 69 , wke an bot a ' brand plucked from the bnrning?* No, thought I, hell and earth shall never keep me back from my work; I am. cast down but not destroyed/* Here, my friends, is a determination which we may all write upon our hearts ; it is a noble and a lofty senti- ment — ** hell and earth shall never keep me back from my work.** It is the very same spirit which wrought in St. Pmuli when he said, ** I count not my life dear unto myself, so that I might finish my course with joy, and the ministiy which I have received of the Lord Jesus to testify the gospel of the grace of God." It is the very same spirit which animated Luther when he exclaimed, in answer to the remonstrance of the friends who would have dissuaded him from his journey to Worms, "If they were to kindle a fire between Wittemburg and Worms, which would reach to the heavens, I would still appear in the name of the Lord, and enter the jaws of Behemoth, and treading between his teeth, confess Christy and leave him to do his pleasure." I delight to dwell upon the words " hell and earth shall never keep me back from my work," for they tell of foith and fortitude, and a manly, robiuit, energetic religion ; a religion not of sentiment or profession, not of frames and feelings, but one which so brings the soul into contact with the stupendous realities of eternity, that we are ready to sufier the loss of all things that we may win Christ, and be found in Him. Oh, that we might be tatight by that holy man who uttered them a lesson in devotedness to God ; that we might learn from him how it invests our life with an untold majesty to lay it thus willingly on the Lord's attar, and to clasp to our bosom the reproach of Christ ! 66 RENRT ttARTYIf. Poor Maityn was now sobering indeed, for be uddng up his master's cross, and tke iroi> was entering his souK Yea, It may be said that be was now •' striring** against the natural desires of the mind, " resisting even unto blood ;" not the blood which flows fro^ the flesh bj the sword or the spear, bnt that icbkh is dtawn fVom the heart, when it bleed* itself away drop by diDp under some great and agonizins^ sorrow.' There is something in the history of that internal conflict which warred in the breast of this devoted servant of God, which is peculiarly valuable to all who have engaged in the ** good fight of faith.^ We have here a man exercised with the same feelings as onrselves, shrinking from the diffi- culties before him, cut to the quick by the keen knifb of affliction, and yet so full of zeal in the Lord's service that he submits to everything, encounters everything, for Christ's sake and the Gospel's. When the novelist or the romancist draw upon their imaginations for a hero, they not unfrequently present us with some model of superhuman excellence, who smiles in lofty disdain on the sorrows which beset his path, and moves about on earth like a denizen of another sphere. And as we read we feel that a man of this unearthly virtue soars far beyond our humble powers of imitation. Bnt in Henry Martyn we have a man in temperament, in constitution, in sensibility, like one of ourselves; whose journal reveals to us that his soul was well ac* quainted with the harassments of sin, and the assaults of the evil one, and the motions of that carnal heart which is natural to every child of Adam. Therefore his example is valuable, for it tells us bow this same fleshly mind which cleaves to us all, do what we will to get rid BBMRV MARTYN. 67 of it, is 8ft far (roni being a proof, as we might imagine, ihmt «• do not belong to the family of heaven, that it ensts in the holiest of men, and that through grace it may be so &r subdued as not to inteifere with our hearty senriee of GoA, or entire surrender of oursolves to his ser- > Wa see in the case of Martyn how every " thought brought mto captivity to the obedience of Christ ;'* hovr be volontarily resigned a bright and splendid career, and all that had hitherto been his pleasure and delight, and bow be resolved to pass the rest of his life with no oibef source of happiness than that which proceeds from the worship and service of God. Whatever, then, be the diaconngements in your Christian life, whether from the eril heart within, or from the wicked world without, or from the fiery darts of the adversely himself, be not diriiearCened ; let God be your strength, and prayer your resource, and the spirit your helper, and you shall yet come forth victorious from the hard- fought battle, and shall be ''made more than conquerors through Him that loved us.*' In the July of 1805, Martyn sailed from Portsmouth in the Uni business, .BSN&Y MARTYN. 69 fenrent in spirit > serving the Lord, rejoicing in bope, patient in tribnlatton, continuing instant in prayer." He wsB ever about his Master's business. During the eight montbfi for which his voyage lasted, he was con* «taut in bis labours among the soldiers, and officers, and cadets, who where on board, and was willing to become all things to all men that by any means he might gain some. His pastoral assiduity was also called into exercise by the unhealthy state of the ship's company. Often was he found by the beds of the sick, administering to their eveiy temporal and spiritual comfort, till at length he himself was seized by the contagious disorder. As soon as he recovered he was again at his post, kneeling beside the hammocks of the sick and dying, speaking a '* word in season to the weary,*' and pointing the eye of faith and hope to that Saviour who " gave his life a ransom lor many." He was ever busy in offices of tenderness and love, soothing the wretched, teaching the unin- stmcted* and giving himself up to the service of the siDfal and the suffering with all the warmth and alacrity of the most active benevolence. And this exhibition of a fine Christian philanthropy was given amid much to damp its ardour, and to check its sympathies, for he met with not a little contradiction and insult from those who weie opposed to the gospel, and could not endure its faithful appeals to their consciences. Obloquy and eon- tempt» noise and clamour, and scoffs, assailed him, as hiflnenced by the imperious sense of duty and the tender overfiowiugk of love, he warned the ungodly to ** flee from the wiath to come," and besought them, even weeping, to lake reAige in Christ. We may well believe that a spirit, to sensitive as his, and yearning a(ler the sympathy 70 B£NRY MARTTK. of his fellow men, felt the acorn and the derinon, and was wounded by the contempt and disdain ; '' bat none of these things moved him" from his righteous walk, or made htm falter one jot or one tittle in the diacbarRe of what he believed to be a serious and paranouDt daty. The iiritability which once characterised his temper had been subdued by grace, and he that once in paasioii thraw the knife at his friend, is now conteat to be accnonted " che ofiscouring of alf things.'* What cannot the spixit of God effect ? Mighty things and wonderful. He can ** make low the mountains" of sin in the human heart, and ''exalt the valleyB" of indifference; be can ^nuike the crooked straight, and the rough places pkin." He can stir the soul of man from the slumber of death into the senaibilities and energies of life. He can hush the warring passions of the heart into the stillness and quiet of repose. He can give the faith which overcometh the world ; and the love which embraces man in God ; and the hope which msketh not ashamed, and is full oC immortality. Yea, He can make thingB invisible so overshadow things that are seen, and things eternal so outweigh the things of time« that the visible and the tempond shall only be as dust in the balance, and the pleasures of earth shall be forgotten in the happiness of heaven. And now we must look at Marty n as he reaches the goal of all his desires and wishes, and, af^er a long and wearisome voyage of eight months, at length sets foot on the Indian shore, India is a land whose very name gives birth to a train of the most stirring emotions in the mind. We cannot think of this conntiy withoet letting the mind dwell on the magnitude of a legion^ some of wliose kingdonis ove clo^ied with a rich ukl oriental beauty, and flooded arith the briUiaocy of a tropical suoi while other parts of ita territories are visited by the keen bUists of winter, and contain that magnificent mountain*' chain which tnm its eteroal frosts has been named the •* Him-dlaya/' or, • the dwelling-place of snow,'* Thoagh in portions flat and monotonous, India has many a region of exquisite loveliness, lu plains are enriched by the featheiy jisAm and the stately banyan ; Uiere rise the yellow tulip^tree, and the i^lendid aloe srith its magnificent blossoms ; and tfaeie the omnga, and the lime, and the dtnm, scent the gales with their ttomalic breath. Spreading jungles are there, which sillbid shelter to the tawny lion and ^e ivory-toothed elephant; and green forests, amidst whose clostering foliage ''strange bright birds*' glitter like Instroos ttais throngh the shades of the dusky night. Bkh mines are there, whence gold and precions metals ane dag, and hi #lioee soil diamonds and costly jewels lie imbedded* Here Alexander the Great fonght, and Timoiir the Taitar carried on his conquests. Here Aurungz^ Ksnd in a splendonr which recalls the wild magnificence 4ii eastern romance ; end Hyder Ali, the remorselesss tyrant and the sensual volupioaiy, wuvsd with the English, and snbvened the threne of Mysore. And bere Tippoo 8afl>, his cmel and bigoted son, was the master of weakh and treasores to an almost fabnloos nmonnu Hers it was that Robert Olive, described by Pitt aa a heaven-bom general, achieved victories fear England, consolidated her Eastern erapirs, and won fresh Ycnown for the arms of his country. Here it was that Warren Hastings, a man blemished by great crimes, and 72 BBNBY MARTVN/ distinguished for great services, administered gorernmeDt and war ; and here our honoured Wellington^ M He that gain'd » hundred fights, Kor erer lost an English gun ; Agciintt the myriads of Assaye Clash'd ?rith his fieiy £bw and won." And iunsges of other men, less rich indeed in thd honour which cometh from the world, hut more wealthy in that honour which cometh from God, rise u|i before the eye. Schwartz, rich in glowing piety and fervent zeal ; Buchanan, who consecrated the brightest talents to the missionary work ; Carey, the humble shoemaker of Noi^hampton, who, friendless and poor, went forth to plant the standard o( the cross on the vast plains of Hindoatan, are all identified in our minds with India. And then that stupendous system of idolatry, with its thousands of priests and millions of worshippers, and thrcmgs of pilgrims ; with its splendid templee and magnificent processions; with its fearful orgiea and abominable rites, rears its gigantic structure before us, oemeuted by the hidissoluble bonds of caste, and rooted in the hearts of the people, as well from usage as from age« We see Benares, rich in temples and holy shrinea j and Delhi, with its. lofty mosques and graceful minarets ; and the dark pagoda of Juggernaut, devoted to the worship of the spirits of darkness, and the scene d's blessing rested on their faith and love. In His strength they Ibrmed the Chnreh Missionary Society — a society which has swelled firom an im ignificant rill tu a mighty river, the waters of which, canying with them Hfeand healmg, have fertilised and gladdened many a parched and thimty land. " It was once said, and but too truly, that were British rale in India to become, in the dianges brought about by the providence of God, a hd of history to-morrow, no visible impress of our faidi would be left over whole provinces and Icingdoms ; nothing would remain to show that Englishmen fought beneath the banner of the cross, and remembered the God of battles in the victories which he himself vouchsafed.*' But, blessed be God ! this can be taid no more. I speak not merely of noble cathedrals eredad, or simple churehes sslablisbed of }^6 • HENRY M ARTYN. the apparatus of mission stations and busy scbools^-mf many a waste place in the wildeniess now turned into the fertile garden of the Lord, *' for temples made with hands'* perish and decay, and the wild tornado of popular tumult* can sweep away structures the noblest and the fairest, and leave not a wreck behind to tell of former glory ; but I speak of monuments that never crumble nor corrode— of imperishable souls saved with an ever- lasting salvation ; men, and women, and children, once bound in the hateful fetters of the vilest superstition, rescued from the tyranny of evil by the mighty power of the Go^el, and *' delivered from the bondage of corrup- tiim into the glorious liberty of the children of €k>d." Some of these there are, who even now, amidst the sorrows and temptations of a ** world lying in the wicked one," are '" adorning the doctrine of Ood our Saviour in all things ;*' and some of these having *' fought the good fight and kept the faith," have been drawn by the evei^ pasting arms heavenwards up to paradise and peace, to join that bright company of the redeemed which rejoices ever in the presence of the Lord. It was that he might win such immortal trophies for the glory of God, that Henry Martyii, with his powerful intellect, his simple faith, his burning zeal, devoted him- self to the arduous work of a missionary in India. For -a short period this holy man took up his residence at Aldeen, near Calcutta, where in the mission church he ,preached the Gospel to his countrymen ; and his friends, thinking the place to be evidently suited to his talents, wished him to continue in this sphere* But it was truly said of him by Dr. Buchanan in his ''Christian Researches," that he '* had a spirit to follow the steps of HENRY martyn; 7T a Brainard and a Schwartz ;" and to be prevented from going to the heathen^ Martyn himself remarked on this occasion, '* would almost have broken his heart." It was not long, therefore, before he set out for Dinapore ; and having parted from his Christian brethren, who accompanied him part of the way up the Ganges, was for the first time left alone with none but the natives* Three especial objects engaged his attention upon reach ^ ing Dinapore ; — ^to acquire such a facility in speaking Hindostanee as might enable him to preach in that lan- guage the Gospel of the grace of God ; to establish native schools ; and to prepare translations of the Scrip* tures, and religious tracts for circulation. -During his voyage up the Ganges he had employed himself in translating the Parables, accompanied by remarks on those beautiful passages in God's words. But no sooner had he passed from the Province of Bengal into that of Bahar, than he found the Baharree dialect must also be acquired } for as the people of India are divided into thirty-five difierent states, so do they speak thirty diflferent languages ; and though there is a close affinity between these tongues, yet a book in the dialect of one district is unintelligible to the inhabitants of another. These, and the many other difficulties which lay in the way of his work, could not fail of weighing Impressively on his mind ; and had he not known that Christ is a sure refuge for all who put their trust in his love, he would have been overwhelmed with despair; And, alas, the conduct of his own countrymen stationed at Dinapore— their levity and profaneness, their dishonour of religion, their mind so opposed to the spirit of that Christianity which they professed, — was to this holy 78 BSlf RY MARTTN. man a canae of the bitterest tranbU and eren anguish of aoul. With St. Paal he could say of those who were &o uuworthy the name of Christian^ " Many walk, of whom. I have told you often, and now tell you even weepm^ thai they are the eaittuiei of the cross of Christ." The natives, too, he thought regarded him with enmity and dulike ; and his meek and tender spirit was pained and grieved, as he feared that he was the object of their codp tempt Hence this mingled bunt of sorrow and hope« which, proceeding from a heart overcharged with grief, found expression in the following words: — " Here every native I meet is an enemy to me because I am an Englishman. England appears almost a heaven upoa earth, because there one is not viewed as an unjust ia^ truder. But, oh ! the heaven of my God, ' the general assembly of the first-born, the spirits of just men made perfect,' and Jesus ! O, let me for a little while labour and sufier reproach." His ministry as Chaplain at Dinapore was at its com- mencement not such as to cheer him : but after a time there were some amongst the English who became *'.hia joy," and who will one day be '' his crown of rejoicing." When he first began his duties at this station, he read prayers to the soldiers at the barracks on the long-dnun,. and as there was no place to sit, he was desired to omit the sermon. After a time he made arrangements for the more decorous celebration of divine service ; but some of the resident families overstepped the limits of propriety and respect by asking him to desist from extempore preaching ; and though when he heard the request he feu displeased and annoyed> yet he afterwards returned the answer, — ^perhaps a little sarcastic,—" that he would BllfRT XABTTK. 79 give them a foKo sermon-bocA, if they would receive the ward of God on that account." His Teiy en<» deaToors at this time to bring the Gospel to- bear npon the heathen, excited the dread and jealousy ef some of the worldly and indifferent^ lest it should excite a tumult amongst the natives ; — as though the Gospel of the grace of God could do anything but pour oil on the troubled waters of the human heart, or introduce any- thing but peace and good will where it is received. With the moral character of the natives he was shocked and pained ; and so great was thehr laxity of principle that their conversion to nominal Christianity would have been a matter of little or no difficulty. But this was not his object ; and miless he considered them to be truly penitent and believing, he had no wish or intention to baptize them. He erected five schools at his own ex- pense, which were well attended ; and he now commenced divine worship in the vernacular tongue of India; at which Portuguese, Roman Catholics, and Mahomedans, attended in large and eager crowds. His time was also much occupied by religious discussions with his Moonshee aed. Pundit; and in these conferences he shewed much calmness and soundness of judgment ; while his great powers of intellect, and his rich attainments in learning, were found useful auxiliaries in laying bare the subtleties and sophistries of his opponents. His chief source of consolation at this time, and that which most cheered the solitariness of bis lot, was the arrival of letters from his Christian friends at Calcutta, Mr. Brown and Mr. Corrie, and those which he received from England. He still corresponded with Miss Gren- iisU, and his letters tell painfully how maeh he foil 80. BENRY MARTYN,- their separation, and how -great was the struggle within, before he could say, '^ Abba, Father, not my will but thine be done !" He was ever hoping that she wou^d consent to join him in his Indian home ; and he longed for her presence the more because he thought their union would greatly tend to the extension of his own usefulness in the Missionary work. " My own earthly comfort and happiness," he writes, ''are not worth a moment's notice ; I would not influence you by afiy artiflces or false representations. I can only say, that if you have a desire of being instrumental in as* tablishing the Blessed Redeemer's kingdom among these poor people, and will condescend to do it, by supporting the spirit and animating the zeal of a weak messenger of the Lord, who is apt to grow veiy dispu^ted and languid, ' Come, and the Lord be with you !' It cap be nothing but a sacrifice on your part to leave your valuable friends to come to one who is utterly unworthy of you, or of any other of God's precious gifts, but you will have your reward ; and I ask it not of you or of God for the sake of my own happiness, but only on account of the Gospel's.'* The answer to this letter was one which doomed him to the bitterness of disappointed hope. Miss Grenfell refused to leave England, partly at least, on her mother's account, who was naturally unwilling to be separated from her daughter, and partly it would seem from other reasons.* As before, in all times of his tribulation, so • * In Mr. Simeon's life there ie given an entzy from his journal in which, rafening to Miss Gbenfell, he says, " she stated to me all the obstaoles to his (Martyn's) proposals : — First, her health ; the second, the indelicacy of her going out to India alone on snoh an emnd ; third, her former engagement with HENRY MARTTN. * 81 BOVy he sought and fonnd ccmeolation in prajer. You onmot read his life without being struck with the earnest and constant lifting up of his soul unto God. It might be truly said of him that ** God was in all his thoughts." This was the secret of his steady advance in grace* It was through prayer that out of weakness he was made stroDg ; through prayer that when in darkness he ob- tained light ; through prayer that when in trouble he found peace. He sanctified eyeiything by the word of Qod and prayer,** and he found in both a source of an almost perpetual delight. I say " almost/' for he hsd not alwa3r8 the same enlargement of heart in these holy ezeidses ; at times he had to lament, even as others, the dulness and slugg^hness of his approaches to the Throne of Grace, and his want of tenderness and faith when he sought to pour forth his supplications unto God. But what I want to impress on you, my dear friends, is this, — that prayer was the habit of his mind ; the solace and support of his soul at all times and in all places. Let it be yours, too. Cultivate more and more the " spirit of grace and supplication ;" for you may be assured that the true way of attaining conformity to the mind of Christ is to '' continue instant in prayer." If you desire that the " peace of God which passeth all understanding should keep your hearts and minds by toother penon, which had indeed been broken off, and he bad aotnally gone up to London two yean ago to be married to another woman, but aa he waa unmarried it leemed an obstacle in her mind ; fourth, the certainty that her mother would never oonaent to it. On these points I observed, that I thought that the last was the only one that waa insurmountable."— Tide 8imeoD*t Life, p^ 286, O 82 QENRY MARTYN, Christ Jesus/' you most attend to the Apostolic in- junctioD, '' Be careful for nothing, bnt in every thing by prayer and snpplicaiion let yonr requests be made known unto God." It is through prayer that while the out- ward jnan perishes, " the inward man is renewed day by day." There never has been a man eminent for godli- ness who has not been a man of prayer : for if there be not constant and earnest communion with our Father in Heaven through that Spirit who '* helpeth our infirmi- ties, and maketh intercession for us with groanings that cannot be uttered/' faith becomes weak, love waxes cold, hope grows faint, religion degenerates into a dead and barren formalism, and profession becomes nothing better than a *' sounding brass and a tinkling cjrmbaL" But, besides "praying without ceasing," MarQrn gave himself actively to the Lord's service in this season oi trial, and by incessant labour 1»Y>ught to its completion a work, which,had heefiected nothing else, would haveproved that he had not lived in vain, — the translation of the Book of Common Prayer into the Hindoostanee tongue. His Commentary on the Parables was also in a very little while after brought to a successful ronclusion. He now employs himself in completing a version of the Scrip- tures in Hindoostanee, and of superintending one in the Persian tongue ; and so imperceptibly does the time fly while thus engaged, that " his days seem to pass like a moment." But new sorrows await him. Letters from England convey the intelligence of the death of his eldest sister. The dispensation is most painful and trying, and the only thing which makes it supportable is the knowledge that she has passed from death into life^ and emerged HBNRT MARTYN. 63 from tbe shadows of the dark valkj into the light and glory of the presence of the Lord. "Oh, my heart! my heart!" he exclaims: ''Is it, can it he, true that she has heen lying so many months in the cold grave ?'* '' O, great and gracious Lord, what should I do without thee ! hut now thou art manifesting thysdf as the God of all consolation to my sonl. Never was I so near to ihee ; I stand on the brink, and I long to take my flight ! Oh, what hast thou done to alleviate the sorrows of Hfe, and how great has been the mercy of God towards my family, saving us all ! How dark and dreadful the separation of relatives in death, were it not for Jesns !" But though suffering acutely from this bereavement, he relaxed not in his '^ work of faith and labour of love ;'* he Btill conthined '* stedfast, unmove- able, always abonndhig in the work of the Lord/' In the month of April 1809, he was removed from Dinapore to Cawnpore, several hundred miles farther distant from Calcutta, and where there was as yet no church for the performance of his ministerial duties. He had procured the erection of a church at Dinapore ; but we find him at Cawnpore, shortly after his arrival, preaching to a thousand soldiers drawn up in a hoUow square, when the heat was so great, although the sun had not risen, that many actually dropped down, un- able to support it. As an illustration of his zeal in God's service, it may be mentioned, that in one of the worst months for travelling through the upper provinces of Hindostan, on account of the intensity of the heat, he journeyed day and night upwards of 400 miles, that he might get the sooner to his woik at Cawnpore ; and 84 HENRY MARTYN. 80 much did he suffer on the way that he faioted as soon as he reached his destination. There may have been rashness in putting his life to such a risk as this ; but if there was, we forget it in the seal which prompted the journey ; and if we cannot un- reservedly praise, we must assuredly admire. Oh, of the two extremes, give me the living enthusiasm of a love which forgets self in its yearning after the honour of the Lord, rather than that placid calmness of feeling which first consults for self, and then turns leisurely to the interests of God ! The close of the year 1809 was distinguished by the commencement of his first ministrations among the heathen. To prevent the recurrence of repeated inter- ruptions on his valuable time, he had appointed all who needed temporal assistance to meet him on a stated day for the distribution of alms. Sometimes as many as firom Ave to eight hundred beggars would assemble before his house ; andheseized the opportunity of feeding them, not only with the bread which perisheth, but with the bread which cometh down firom heaven. He had the satisfaction of seeing the number increase, and also a growing attention to the instructions which he delivered. He had not been long settled at Cawnpore before he received another shock, similar to that which had over- whelmed himintheprecedingyear; for letters from Europe brought the sad intelligence that bis youngest sister, — she who had been his first counsellor and guide in the way of peace,-— had been removed from earth. " What is there now," he writes to the widowed husband, '' what HENRY MARTYN. 86 is there now that I should wish to live for ? O, what a barren desert, what a howling wilderness, does this world iqppear ! But for the service of God in His churchy and the preparation of my own soul, I do not know that I would wish ' to live another day." But these repeated trials were not without their blessings' to his soul. They yielded many a ** peaceable fruit of righteousness." Any one who reads his journal at this period must be struck with his advance in that ** spiritual mind which is life and peace." He seems to grow in faith, and in love, and in the liberty which becometh one who is ''not under the law but under grace." I think one great imperfection in his religious character before was a cer- tain lack of that " spirit of adoption," whereby, with the feelings of a child, we cry, "Abba, Father!" He seemed at times to regard God too much as the Judge, " extreme to mark what is done amiss." He often permitted, moreover, his inward peace to depend in too great a measure on the fiames and feelings of his mind at the time, so that unless he had always a conscious ex- perience of joy, he was downcast and dispirited. But we must remember that he was constitutionally melan- choly ; that his conscience was peculiarly tender, and his spirit strikingly humble; and that there were seasons when he soared above all the infirmities which belonged to his natural temperament, and basked in the unclouded sunshine of his Father's face. There is one point worthy of observation as regarded his rejoicing in the Lord. His feelings of spiritual joy never exceeded the bounds of the most chastened sobriety ; and when his heart was most in Heaven his spirit was most abased under the " exceeding sinfulness of sin." Fervent love and filial fear 86 HSNRY MARTYM^ met in a most blessed and holy union in his soul. When he was the child up in the bosom of his Father, he was at the same time the creature down in the dust before his God. And daily did he '^ grow in grace," gathering round him ever the lineaments of heaven, and a sanctity which breathed of the Paradise above. And as I hare femarked, his trials were sanctified to an increasing growth in spirituality and the mind of Christ : he him- self tells us he saw " Love inscribed on these afflictions.** He was, indeed, a learner in the school of sorrow. And, dear friends, sanctified sorrow is a great teacher. There are some things that would remain for ever unknown were they not brought to light by tribulation. As dark- ness not only hides but reveals, so it is with sorrow. Suppose the sun were never to descend below the ho- rizon, were always to irradiate our hemisphere, how much of the workmanship of God we should lose ! It is the darkness which discloses the crescent moon as she walks miyestically the azure heights of heaven, and shews us the lustrous troops of stars as they come up one by one through the fiu: depths of the firmament^ making the blackness of night beautiful with their bril- liant fires. So it is with affliction. Were we permitted to live in the unbroken sunshine of prosperityi there are laige portions of the word of God whose meaning we should not comprehend, whose application we should en- tirely lose. Rich promises are there, made only for the afflicted ; " words m season," firamed only for the weary; statements advanced solely for the sorrowful; conso- lation introduced entirely for the travailing and heavy- laden. So that trial, with all its dreariness and gloom, reveab to us the preciousness of truths of whose ia* HENRY ICARTTK. 87 Fftlue we «lKH]ld without its help continue for ever in ignoranee^ and hrings into prominence many a gracious pi^amise which, like moon and planet, unless revealed by the shadows of night, would for ever reauttD hidden and shrouded from our gase. And since H is when sorrow darkens our homes that the pages of the Bible glow with a tenfold radiance, unfolding many a bright star of hope and promise which woidd otherwise be overlooked and unappreciated, every Christian, when visited with seasons of trouble, may say with the Psalmist, ** It is good for me that I have been afflicted ; that I might learn thy statutes." But at length the time comes when his trials and labours, and the climate of India, begin to tell upon the health of this devoted servant of the Lord. His friends become alarmed and anxious, and one of them, Mr. Brown, of Calcutta, writes thus :«— '' You will know, from our inestimable brother Corrie, my solicitude about your health. If I could make you live longer I would give up any child I have, and myself into the baiigain. May it please the unsearchable and adorable Being with whom we have to do, to lengthen out your q>an !" Aftejr a considerable struggle in his mind, Martyn determined to return for a short time to England, and though his affections were strongly drawn to his native land, and the friends that were there, yet he was loath to leave India, and his work aipong the heathen. But his d^iMUture for England is deferred for a time, in order that he may visit Arabia and Persia, for the purpose of making as perfect as possible his Persian versioD of the New Testament. When his resolution is made known to his friends, Mr. Brown wrote him a 88 HSNRY MARTYH. letter^ in which he 8ay»— " How can I bring myself to cut the string and let you go ? I confess I could not, if your bodily frame were strong and promised to last, for half a century. But as you bum like the intenaeness and rapid blaze of heated phosphorus, why should we not make the most of you ? Your frame may last as long and perhaps longer in Arabia than in India. Where should the phsnix build her odoriferous nest but in the land prophetically called 'the blessed?' And where shall we ever expect; but from that country, the true Comforter to come to the natives of the East? I contemplate your New Testament. springing up as it wcnre from dust and ashes, and beautifid as the vrings of a dove covered with silver, and her feathers like yellow gold." In his last sermon at Cawnpore, he is described by Mrs. Sherwood, one of his audience on the solemn occasion, as " beginning in a weak and frail yoiee, but gathering strength as he proceeded, and seeming like one inspired from on high." When he passed through Calcutta on his way to Arabia, he again, after an absence of four years, enjoyed the pure and refined happiness of communion with his dear friends in that city. Mr. Thomason thus writes of him to Mr. Simeon — " This bright and lovely jewel first gladdened my eyes on Saturday last. You know his genius, and what gigantic strides he takes in every thing. He has some great plan in his mind of which I am no competent judge, but, as far as I do understand it, the object is far too grand for one short life, and much beyond his feeble and ex«- hausted frame — feeble it is indeed ! how fallen and changed ! In all other respects he is exactly the same HSM RT MARTYN. 89 as he was ; he shines in all the dignity of loFe, and seems to cany ahont with him such a heavenly majesty as im- presses the mind heyond description. But if he talks much, though in a low voice, he sinks, and you are reminded of his heing * dust and ashes.' " Martyu's own wor4ls on leaving for ever those shores on which he had fondly and fully purposed to spend all his days, were these : — " I now pass from India to Arabia, not knowing the things that shall befall me there, but assured that an ever faithful God and Saviour will be with me in all places whithersoever I go." With such sentiments as these he left Bengal for ShinuE, in the January of 181 1 ; and after a voyage lasting nearly five months he landed at Bushire in the middle of May. After the pause of a few days at Bushire, where he learnt so much of the moral state of Penia as to make him shudder at a wickedness which surpassed even that of the Hindoos, he set out for Shiraz. During this journey he suffered much from the extremes of both heat and cold ; on some occasions the thermome- ter rose to 126, and the only way in which he could * defend himself from the fierceness of the sun and pre- serve the moisture upon the skin was by wrapping himself up in blankets and other coverings thick enough to exclude the air. At other times he had recourse to laige wet towels, which he wound round his head and body ; and to this precaution he owed under God the pre- servation of his life. This was in the plains. When he began to ascend the mountain defiles, where the road often passed so close to the edge of fearful precipices that one false step must have plunged him in destruc- tion, the cold of the nights was so piercing that all the 90 HSNRY MARTY1#. clothes he could collect together could not keep hhn (ram shivering. We cannot wonder^ therefore, that when he reached Carzeroon, where he halted for a short period, he could say, " there seemed to he a fire within my head, my skin was like a cinder, and my pulse violent; J awoke many times during the night to dtp my buHiing hand in water." At lengrth he arrived at Shiraz, a dty which has been called the " Athens of Persia," because it has given birth to many poets and hialorians, who hold a distingnirtied place in the literature of Asia. The very name of Persia brings back to the mind those Eaaitni tales in which the loves of the Nightingale and the Rose form so con^icuous « partp— which tell of many a daring exploit of the ancisDt natives of the conntr}'i the worshippers of the sun and the fire ; and how at length the Arabs conquered the followers of Zoroaster, and forcing them to become wanderers abroad, intioduced the Mahomedan religion into the land. But the poetical associations of the region in which he was now settled could not prevent Marty n from seeing the terrible evils which oppressed both the country and the inhabitants. It is thus he* writes from Persia to a friend in England : — '* As for their wickedness and misery, it is only human nature un- veiled, its depravity heightened perhaps by the supenti* tion under which they groan." It is not my intention to . give you any lengthened account of Martyn's labours in Persia, for however rich in interest is his journal at this period, I feel that I must not trespass much longer on your attention. Besides, one object of this lecture is to induce those of you who have not already made acquaintance with his life, to read HSNRY MARTTH* 9 1 the Inogivphy for yoarselres, for I sincerely believe that if yon do so in a right spirit you will rise np from the perusal both humbler and better men. Suffice it to say, that while he carried on with vigour his immediate object to Peniia» that of completing a more perfect translation of the New Testament in the Persian language, he stood forth as the faithful Christian confessor attacking the fiklse religion of Mahomet in the veiy presence of his most bigoted followen, and witnessing boldly for the ** truth as it is in Jesus.'* He himself has sketched for us his own portndt at this time t— '* I am in Persia, entrenched in one of its valleys, separated from Indian friends by chains of moun- tains and a roaring sea, among a people depraved beyond all belief, in the power of a tynnt guilQr of every species of atrocity. Imagine a tall person, seated on a Persian caipet in a room without table or chair, with a pair of formidable mostachios, and habited as a Persian, and you see me." I think I see this man of God, with his pale and loily brow, and* melancholy eye, clothed in his oriental garb, which is folded over a heart full of the love of Jesus, surrounded by his Mahometan opponents, before whom he is confessmg the fidth of Christ. Some of his hearers are contemptuous i others violent ; others clamorous ; yet he calmly and temperately upholds the cause of his Redeemer, and maintains against all their unbelief that Christ is not only human but diriue : " God of God, li^t of lights very God of very God." Though the ▼indication of the deity of the Saviour before these adherents of the false prophet exposes him not only to many insults, but also to personal danger, he "rgoices ^2 HENRY MARTTN. in the truth ;" and not shrinking from declaring ** whose he was, and whom he senred/' " contends earnestly for the ffidth once delivered to the saints." It is a noble spectacle, and one which proves to us the mighty power of faith, and the constraining influence of love. It tells us that wherever faith and love bum clearly and brightly in the soul, there is no consulting for the interests of flesh and blood; no longing for the applause of the world ; no thirsting for the approbation of men ; but in- stead of these, aspirations after heaven, and yearnings for the honour which cometh from God ; and desire above all things that Christ be magnified in the body whether it be by life or death. For this is the language of every Christian man whose communion is with the spirit which abideth for evermore : *' Whether we live, we live unto the Lord, and whether we die, we die unto the Lord ; ao that living or dying we are the Lord's." Just one year after his entering Persia, Martyn left Shiraz with the intention of laying before the king, Ali Shah Kajar, his translation of the New Testament. When, after a fatiguing journey of eighf weeks, he reaches the king's camp, he is refused an audience, as u is not the custom for any Englishman to enter the royal presence unless presented by the ambassador, or ac- credited by his letter. Disappointed in his object, he lost no time in leaving the camp, and proceeded at once to Tebriz; for through the influence of the English ambassador there. Sir Qore Ousely, he hoped still to obtain a personal interview with the king* His wishes, however, were again defeated, for he suffered so much on his journey, not only from the heat, but also at times from scarcity of food, that he was tortured by pain and HENRT MARTYN. 93 sickness, and reduced to a state of great exhaustion. He speaks of having eaten nothing for two days ; of having applied to many rich people for even a piastre, and of being refused; and of having .been at length supplied with what was necessary, because a poor muleteer from Tebriz became security for him and his companions. As the natural consequences of these hardships, he was attacked by ague and fever, accompanied at times by tnch aching of the head, and giddiness, that he almost became frantic with the pain : but even in the midst of his agonies, he said again and again, *' Let patience have her perfect work;" and he continued pleading before God the precious promise — '' When thou passest through the waters I will be with thee; and through the rivers they shall not overflow thee." His sufferings during this painful journey bad such an effect on his exhausted frame, that upon his arrival at Tebriz he was seized with a violent illness, which, lasting for two months, wasted all his strength, and nearly deprived him of rnason. Upon his being raised up, he determined to return to England for the purpose of re- covering his health, and in September set out on his long journey homewards. One thousand three himdred miles had he to traverse before he could tread again the shores of his native land ; and he had but faint hopes of reaching his destination. He writes thus to Mr. Simeon : — ** You will learn from Mr. Grant that I have applied for leave to come to England on furlough — a measure you will disapprove ; but you would not, were you to see the pitiable condition to which I am reduced, and knew what it is to traverse the continent of Asia in the destitute state in which I am. If you wish not to 94 HSNRT MARTTir, see me, I can say that I Uiink it most probable that yoa will not ; the way hefote me being not better than that passed over, which has nearly killed me." The miseries he endured while travelling from Tebris to Tocat in Asiatic Turkey were intense; though at times he was able to enjoy the beauty and interest of the scenes through which he passed ; for now the river Araxes rolled its rapid current before him ; and now the hoary peaks of Mount Ararat led back has thoughts to the early world, and the church gathered into the ark, and the rainbow, beautiful token of the gracious covenant of God. But it is not long before the daily fatigue begins to tell powerfully on his weakened frame ; the fever and ague return, attended by depression of ^irits, which, however, never interferes with his peace of mind, for his soul rests still upon Him who is a " very present help in time of trouble." As he draws near Tocnt, after journeying about a month, he hears that the plague is raging there, and he feels that he is passing inevitably into imminent danger. The Tartar guide who was to escort him to Tocat, compels him, firom private motives of his own, to travel day and night, and hurries him onwards with the greatest rapidity, until Martyn, dismounting from his horse, says resolutely he will go no further. This night he sleeps in a stable-room, for though he might be better lodged in the house of public entertain- ment, he wishes to be alone, and longs for quietness and rest. But his desire is not granted, for he is fol- lowed to this place by others, who have neither pity nor compassion for his sufferings. Here his fever in* creases to a violent degree ; and the heat in his eyes and forehead is so . heightened by a fire which they HBNBT UARTTN. 95 bsve kindled, and will not put out at his urgent xeqnest, that he becomes almost maddened with the pain. He eDtreats them to cany hin^ out into the fresh night-air, bat they are deaf to all he says. As a last resource he places his head among the baggage* seeking to cool it Qpon the damp groimd, and in this position fiills asleep. But his sorrows are soon to end. A few days more and be will be where sunow never comes. He has '' fought the good fight and kept the faith" — he is found ''faith- ful unto death, and the crown of life is being woven ibr his brow." Soon will the stany portals of the kingdom of heaveh roll back to admit his soul among the TCJoieing choirs of the redeemed. He himself longed for the time, when being " absent firom the body, he should be present with the Lord." His last recorded words are these : '^ I sat in the orchard, and thought with sweet comfort and peace of my God; in solitude my companion, my friend, and comforter. Oh ! when shall time give place to eternity ? when shall appear that 'new heaven and new earth wherein dwelleth righteousness ?' There ' there shall in so wise enter in anything that defileth ;' none of that wickedness which has made men worse than wild beasts ; none of those corruptions which add still more to the miseries of mortality shall be seen or heard of any more." Ten days after these heavenly a^irations, on the 16th of October, 1812, at the early age of 32, either falling A victim to the plague, or sinking under the fever which had so greatly reduced his strength, he entered the presence of tbat Saviour "whom having not seen he Jovedi and in whom, though he now saw him not, yet J96 HENRY MARTYN* believing^ he rejoiced with joy unspeakable aud full of gloty." There is something very touching in the thought of that lonely death-bed in a foreign laud. No relative was near to watch his last look, to catch his last words ; no kinsman stood by bis couch to whisper encouraging truths, to close his eyes, or wipe the dews from his fore- head, or speak cheeringly of that better land to which he was drawing near. The friends whose privilege it would have been to perform these last offices of love were anxiously expecting tidings of his arrival either in India or England. And what fond thoughts of his distant^ home, of affectionate relatives, of friends dear to his gentle heart— of all that shared his sympathies or ei^gaged his solicitude, may have ru&hed in a flood of thrilling remembrances upon his soul, we know not, and cannot tell. It may have been with him as it was with the traveller who laid him down to die on the burning sands of AfHca, before whose closing eyes came floating up visions of the past, and in whose ears there rang old famihar voices, and who uttered almost as his last words — " I have just heard the sound of an English funeral bell." But however apparently desolate Martyn's dying bed, and whatever the feelings which pervaded his mind, of one thing we may be certain, — that he was not alone in his expiring hour, for the Good Shepherd was with his faithful servant when death stamped his cold signet on his pale brow ; and He administered that rich consola- tion which gives the soul strength and assurance, and at times rapture, when about to appear in the presence of its Gk)d. Nor does He^ wlio thus tenderly ** loosed BBNRY MARTYN. 97 the silTer cord, and gently broke the goldea bowl/' that the Bpirit of his loving saint might be with him where he was, forget the body, which was once that spirit's tabernacle — ^the body, every particle of whose dost was ransomed by blood. There is one spot at least in the plains of Turkey over which Qod watches with sleepless eye, and which may be called "holy groond,". for there rest the ashes of one whose body was " a temple for the Holy Ghost," and concerning whom the {Nromise has been made — *' I will raise him op at the last day ;" and though winds may sweep the ^gra^e in which these ashes repose, and mde men may trample on it, and time lay upon it his stern and ^bcing finger, yet does it contain dust which is pre- cioos in the sight of the Lord, and over which he watches with peculiar care. And this same solitary tomb has become a place enshrined within the affections of the church ; nor will the name of " Henry Martyn" ever cease to blend with her most cherished and holy recollections, until she pass from her militant into her triumphant condition, when this name shall be lost in the brighter glories of that ** new name which no man kooweth save he that receive th it," and which shall be given " to all that overcome." Not altogether melancholy, then, are the thoughts with which we contemplate that unfrequented grave at Tocat ; for '' blessed are the dead which die in the Lord ;" and they that have lived and toiled and served God in the martyr's spirit, shall be rewarded with the martyr's crown. The resting-places of the just, even though they may be stained aud crimsoned with the heartV blood of the saints and confessors who sleep beneath, H 98 HENRY MARTYH. can never be associated in our minds with what U inourufol and sad : rather are they connected with thoughts of honour, and reyerence, and lo>e. Nor is' there the tomb of any one of India's conquerors, how- ever garnished, or decorated, or adorned — ^however made the subject of the poef s eulogy or the historian's praise, that I would choose in preference to thai of the humble one Of Henry Martyn ; for though he endured hardships, and suffered from an unhealthy climate, and knew the desolateness of a lonely life — though he lan- guished under unsoothed a£3ictions and unshared anxiety, and untended sickness — yet in giving his life to the salvation of souls he did deeds which attract th^ admiration of heaven, and whose issues shall be felt to the farthest eternity. He may have lacked earthly honours and .joys, but his record is on high ; and by preaching the Gospel to the ignorant, and by causing languages hitherto silent in those glorious trutha which " make men wise unto salvation,'* to speak eloquently to millions of immortal souls in the tongues which they understood, he Aung a pathway of light over the dark tracks of heathenism, and became the author of blessings which can never be known till time shall be no more. His reward may not have been such as follows the hero of the age, and who receives the loud acclaim of mankind, but it is one better, higher, more lustrous ; and when thronesj shall crumble, and empires totter to ruin, and when heaven and earth themselves shall have passed away, the crown shall still sparkle on his brow, and the palm shall wave brightly in his hand. Oh! that parents who count themselves fortunate HENRY MARTYN. 99 when their children are offered a cadet's commission, or a civilian's appointment, or a merchant's partnership, would rememher that the highest end to which onr life, 80 brief, and yet so associated with eternal destinies, can be devoted, is to make men acquainted with that knowledge which alone can bring them to heaven and to God. Why should the father hail with satisfaction an Indian appointment for his son, and yet shrink bock from what he would confess to be a sacrifice, were he asked to send him forth to toil under the same climate in the cause of Christ and of souls ? Mothers, why not teach your darling boys — sisters, why not animate your loving brothers — ^young men, why not be instructed in the truth, that, in the councils of heaven, fiur beyond the lofty statesman, or the mighty general, or the eloquent orator, or the success- fdl merchant, ranks the man who goes forth with his life in his hand to win souls to Christ ; and that the office which he bears has been alike dignified and sanc- tified by the fact that the first missionary who trod the provinces of this fallen world was the '* Son of God," « the Lord firom Heaven !" And let me, in conclusion, remind you all, that from the silent tomb of Henry Martyn there comes a voice rich in practical lessons ; and that he '* being dead yet speaketh." This voice teaches us what a real and earnest thing true religion is ; and reveals to us that life is too great, too holy, too solemn, to be frittered away in the frivolous vanities of the world ; and that pursuits loftier than these are becoming a being made pnly a " little lower than the angels," whose spirit can hold communion with God, and who can become the 100 HBNRY MARTYN. iiiftnimeiit ^' of turning many sonlsunto righteottftneM." Aje, And it telk xm that it ib not in the doister of the monk, or in the cell of the nun, or in the cave of the hermit that God can be beet Berted, and men moat benefited, and that true apiritnal life penrades every- thing with ditine vigour, filla all the eaiis of action, and nrgea the poaaesaor to do bravely, *and dare greatly, and die bol